Everything You Need
by otpimisticlesbian
Summary: Natalie Goldmill has lost everything. Her mother, her grandfather, her grandmother. Life has thrown punch after punch at her, and when her grandmother dies in a car crash, she decides once and for all that she's had enough. That is, until a certain Italian shows up.
1. Chapter 1

God, I'm exhausted.

That was the only thing going through Natalie Goldmill's mind as she wrapped herself up in a blanket from one of the paramedics, staring off into the distance with the sharp, intelligent blue eyes that she had gotten from her grandfather. She pulled her knees up to her chest as she stared blankly at the cluster of paramedics before her, swallowing the spit accumulating in her mouth.

Natalie glanced at her watch, squinting to see the time. 10:37 PM.

Man, it was earlier than she thought, way earlier. Natalie and her grandmother had been driving when her grandmother dozed off at the wheel, veering off the road and crashing into the sidewalk. Coincidentally, her grandmother woke up the moment before they crashed, and immediately began to yell at Natalie for Lord knows what. Even with a good chance of dying, she found the time and the energy to scream at the teenager, and Natalie couldn't help but let out a dry, humourless chuckle.

"Miz?"

Natalie looked up, her glasses slipping off the bridge of her aquiline nose. Apparently, she'd been re-named 'miz', which she didn't entirely mind.

"Yeah?" she replied, furrowing her brow at the ruddy-faced paramedic. "The ambulance is ready for you," he said, beckoning her forward, then holding out his hand.

Natalie blinked. "Oh- oh, okay," she stammered, slowly standing up. Her footing was tremulous and unsteady, and she started to tip over.

"Woah, woah, woah," a deep, slurred voice called, and before Natalie knew it, she had fallen into a pair of arms instead of collapsing onto the South Philly streets. "You alright?" the voice asked, and Natalie recognized it immediately.

She looked up at the man holding her, her eyes wide and surprised. "Mr-Mr. Balboa?" the teenager stammered, drawing in a sharp breath as she stared at the tall Italian. Rocky nodded, and gave Natalie a lopsided grin. "You got a good memory, kid," he replied, easing her back on the bench. Rocky turned around to look at the cluster of paramedics, firemen, and policemen surrounding the car. He looked back at Natalie for a moment, his lips slightly parted. "Natalie…"

Rocky stood up, walking over to the cluster, a certain confidence in his stride. "Yo, what's goin' on?" he shouted, immediately drawing everyone's attention to him. Considering he was arguably the most notorious person in the neighborhood, it was difficult to ignore him.

"Car accident," one of the paramedics nonchalantly called out. "We got a body, here."

"Well…" Rocky turned back to Natalie for a moment. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes were filled with concern. "Well, where's _she_ gonna go? Tell me," he demanded, anger and fear bubbling up in his voice.

"That's up to social services, sir. If she ain't got no other family, off to foster care she goes," the paramedic replied, giving Rocky an apathetic shrug."Will you let her get in the ambulance, now?" he demanded, an aggravated edge to his voice.

"Come on, Miz, let's get going," another paramedic said, taking Natalie by the elbow. The ginger nodded silently, defeatedly, getting into the ambulance as an EMT shut the doors behind her.

The ambulance drove off into the night, flashing lights and all.

Rocky sank down on the bench that Natalie had sat on just a moment before. He buried his face in his hands and let out a deep, defeated sigh, shaking his head. God, the poor girl was going to be thrown away into foster care and completely forgotten about… shit, she was just a kid, and she had to deal with this! Her future wasn't going to go anywhere, was it? Not in foster care, it wasn't...

"Sir, you alright?" one of the paramedic called towards Rocky, a genuine concern apparent in his features. The tall Italian closed his eyes, letting out a tremulous breath before standing up from his seat on the bench.

Without giving a second glance to the chaos behind him, Rocky began to walk, thoughts of Natalie swirling through his mind. He felt absolutely powerless, not only that, but disgusted with himself. He had made a promise to Mick, all those years ago, to protect Natalie, and he had failed. 'When I die, you protect her, and you protect her good. Don't make me haunt you, now,' Mickey had said, jabbing his finger in Rocky's face. He had spoken those words countless times, and to this day, Rocky could remember them verbatim.

Well, he was in for a few wide open cupboards and upside down crosses, because he certainly hadn't done his goddamn job.

The tall Italian violently shook his head. He had to stop dwelling on the past for a moment, he had a family to get back to, he had a certain brother in law to fetch from the bar. He'd worry about Natalie later, as much as he hated to do so.

"Come on Paulie, let's go," Rocky said, opening the door to the bar and roughly shaking his brother in law by the shoulder. The drunken man sluggishly shook his head and moaned something unintelligible to Rocky. Rocky let out a loud sigh, grabbing Paulie again. "I said let's go, Paulie," he snapped. Having to drag the balding man away from the bar night after night was getting tiresome for Rocky; doing that nearly every day for years was truly starting to get to him.

Rocky was just about to give up, roll his eyes, and leave, making Paulie the bartender's problem, when Paulie slowly got off the chair, taking another swig of beer before setting it down on the bar. "Alright, Rocko," he mumbled drunkenly, tossing a ten dollar bill at the bartender before the duo walked out. Huh. Took a lot less effort than usual, Rocky silently mused.

"Yo, uh…" Rocky momentarily paused, moistening his bottom lip as he debated saying something to Paulie. He doubted the stout, short tempered man would have anything to say, but…

"You remember Natalie?" Rocky asked, lightly elbowing his counterpart in the side. "Natalie who?" Paulie asked nonchalantly, opening up his flask and taking a gulp. "Y'know, Natalie. Mick's granddaughter," Rocky replied, nudging Paulie again. "You gotta remember, now," Rocky insisted, taking off his fedora.

"Yeah, I remember. So?" Paulie sluggishly replied, screwing the cap back on his flask nonchalantly.

Rocky paused for a moment, unsure of what to say. Paulie glanced at his brother in law, arching an eyebrow inquisitively. "Rocko?"

"She… she was in a car accident," Rocky mumbled, shoving his hands deeper inside his pockets after placing his fedora back on his head. "She made it, but, her granny didn't," he continued, letting out another tremulous breath as he continued to walk with his brother-in-law.

"Old lady Goldmill? Ain't nobody's gonna miss her, Rocko," Paulie said with a laugh. "Remember them two? Mickey and Evelyn and their world class screaming fights? You could hear 'em in Jersey!"

"Paulie, relax," Rocky groaned. The last thing he wanted was to deal with another second of Paulie's nonsense.

Rocky opened the door to his home, ushering Paulie in. Adrian stood in the kitchen, drying off a dish before she placed it in the cupboard. "Yo, Adrian, we're back," Rocky said, taking off his fedora and coat and tossing them on a nearby chair. Paulie shuffled off back to the depths of hell, or wherever he came from, leaving the couple to themselves.

"Was bringing him home much trouble?" Adrian asked quietly, turning around to face Rocky. The tall Italian silently shook his head, leaning against the table. "Adrian, do you remember Natalie?" he asked after a moment.

Adrian turned around, clasping her hands in front of her waist. "Yes, yes, I do. I always wondered what happened to her," the brunette softly replied, beginning to wring her hands as her brow creased with worry. "Did something happen?"

Rocky grimaced. "She was in a car accident. She made it, her granny didn't. She's goin' into foster care, Adrian, I don't wanna think about what's gon' _happen_ to her in there…"

The retired boxer's voice trailed off. He ran a hand through his curls, letting out a deep sigh.

Adrian walked over to her husband, sighing softly she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rocky," the brunette muttered as she slowly pulled away. "Poor girl. Lost her mother, then her grandfather, and now…" Adrian let out a tremulous breath. "Is there anything we can do?" the petite woman asked, tilting her head to the side.

Rocky shrugged defeatedly, letting out another sigh as he leaned over, kissing Adrian on the forehead. "I don't know," he muttered. "I don't know."

Rocky made his way downstairs, calling out "Kid?" as he stepped into the basement. Sure enough, Robert sat cross legged on the bed, gnawing on a pencil as he stared at the piece of paper before him. "Hey, dad," the teenager deadpanned, setting the pencil and paper down on his nightstand. He was no longer the rail thin, naive, pale-faced thirteen year old that he had been when he first came to South Philly. He had become tougher in the past two years, yet he still hadn't taken much of an interest in fighting. Art was what he loved, and that wasn't going to change any time soon.

"How you doin', kid?" Rocky asked, plopping down next to his son and planting a soft kiss on the side of his head. Robert shrugged, giving his father a small smile. "I'm okay."

Rocky paused for a moment, unsure of how he should phrase his question. "Um.." Rocky moistened his bottom lip, looking away briefly. "You remember Natalie? Mick's granddaughter?" he asked, running a hand through his curls.

"Yeah, I go to school with her," Robert casually replied, shifting his weight on his bed. "We talk every once in a while. Why?"

Rocky suddenly pulled away from his son. "You do? Why didn't you tell me?" the Italian said angrily, moving away from his son.

Robert moistened his bottom lip, turning away from his father's gaze. "I did, last year, but you were… busy." Rocky immediately felt the tension in the air get thicker. Tommy Gunn was still a sore subject for the family, he had nearly torn Rocky and Robert's relationship to shreds. Of course, it had been nearly a year since he went out of their lives, but

the mere mention of him made Robert upset.

"Yo, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring nothin' up," Rocky said gently, putting a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. Robert slowly shook his head, letting out a humourless chuckle. "That's okay. Why'd you ask?"

Once again, Rocky was unsure of what to say. It had been a habit for him lately, well, for the past couple years. Still, he had to find a way to muster up the words…

"Natalie was in a car accident." God, that must have been the third time he uttered those words in the past twenty minutes. Rocky could hardly understand it himself, he still thought of Natalie as a little girl, not a teenager, not someone who had just evaded death by the skin of her goddamn teeth.

"She made it, don't worry," Rocky said reassuringly. "Mrs. Goldmill, on the other hand… not so lucky," he said with a grimace, shaking his head and letting out a sigh.

"Listen, kid, if you see her at school tomorrow, tell her 'hello,' give her our number, tell her if she needs somethin', we're here. Okay? Can you do that?" Rocky asked, clapping his son on the shoulder.

Robert moistened his bottom lip, nodding as he briefly looked away from his father. "Yeah, I'll do that, no problem."

"Yo, kid." Rocky could practically sense what his son was thinking. Lightly hitting his son on the shoulder, he said, "Hey, come on, it ain't like she's gonna be living with us," the tall Italian said with an uneasy laugh. "Just…tell her everything's gonna be okay. Please? For me?"

Robert nodded again, raking a hand through his hair with a small smile. "Okay."

Rocky gave his son another smile before planting a kiss on his forehead. "Goodnight," he said softly, patting his son on the shoulder once more before walking upstairs to the room he shared with Adrian.

The lights were already turned off, and Adrian had long since crawled into bed. Rocky laid next to the petite brunette, lazily removing his gray sweater and tossing it off to the side. He casually wrapped an arm around her, just as he had done so nearly every night for fifteen years.

His mind would not let him rest. If there was an afterlife, Rocky was sure Mickey had put some sort of hex on him by now. No matter how illogical it was, Rocky couldn't help but blame himself for Natalie being involved in a car accident, and he desperately wished that there was something he could do.

Natalie's grandmother had cut off all contact with the Balboas after Mick's death. The woman had become a hermit, nobody had seen her in years. Natalie came and went, of course, according to people in the neighborhood, but her grandmother was practically off the grid. Rocky had heard countless rumors, including that Mrs. Goldmill had died and Natalie was somehow running a household herself. He found the idea completely egregious, of course, and couldn't help but scoff at the mere thought of it.

"You alright?"

Rocky nearly jumped in surprise before he realized that it was Adrian who had spoken. "Yeah, I'm okay, just thinkin'," he muttered, moistening his bottom lip.

"About Natalie?" the petite brunette said knowingly.

"Yes," Rocky muttered, turning around to face his wife. "I don't know what's gonna happen to her," he said softly, letting out a tremulous breath before resting his cheek against his wife's.

"Oh, sweetheart, neither do I. All we can do is hope. You told Robert to tell her hello when he sees her again, right?" Adrian asked, giving her husband a gentle, comforting pat on the shoulder.

"Yeah, you're right, all we can do is hope. I told the kid to say 'hi', we'll see what happens," Rocky mumbled, planting a kiss on Adrian before he rolled over in bed, resting his head against his pillow before closing his eyes.

The tall Italian drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep after nearly another hour of meaningless pondering.


	2. Chapter 2

Before this chapter begins, I'd like to say that I do not own the Rocky series, nor any of the characters other than Natalie, her grandmother, her mother, Dr. Johnson, Ms. Mark, and Natalie's future romantic interest… wink wink! I will not be making any profit off of this fanfiction. I'm aware that this chapter is very long, but nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it :)

"Alright, Natalie, other than the gash, you're perfectly fine!" The doctor's voice wa unnnecessarily jovial for the occasion, and the bright, beaming smile accompanied with it was equally unnecessary.

Natalie shrugged nonchalantly, took a swig (yes, a swig) from the juice box she had been handed earlier. "Nice. Good to know the gash on my forehead and the lack of a safe place to stay are the only two things holdin' me back from success," the ginger remarked drily, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Dr. Johnson, a thin, brown-skinned young woman, let out a hearty laugh, lightly hitting Natalie on the knee. "Oh, you're such a joker. Social services should be here any minute now, dear." Natalie slowly nodded, letting the words sink in.

"Right. Social services, goin' to take me to some hellhole. Fun," the sullen redhead muttered, running a hand through her hair. "Oh, honey, don't be like that. I'm sure your next of kin will take care of you, don't worry," Dr. Johnson said enthusiastically, patting Natalie on the shoulder.

Natalie arched a blood crusted eyebrow. "What next of kin? My pops was never around, my mama's been dead for twelve years, my grandpa's dead, my grandma's dead, and I doubt I got any long lost aunts or uncles beggin' to take care of me."

Dr. Johnson stood there silently for a moment, unsure of what to say. The moment she opened her mouth to speak, Natalie heard a knock on the door, and before either of the two could respond, a short blonde woman opened the door and stepped into the room. She wore a painted-on, ruby red smile that was as fake as can be.

"Hello, Natalie, I'm Helen Mark, I'll be taking you over to the Balboa residence tomorrow afternoon," the woman said, moving slightly too close to Natalie's hospital bed.

Mother of God. Natalie must've gotten a busted eardrum and a concussion to match, because there was no way in hell she had heard this lady correctly.

Goddamn. Balboas? She was going to live with them, of all people? It wasn't like they were serial killers or something (well, at least Natalie hoped not), it was just that she didn't know them all that well.

She had heard about the entire fiasco with Tommy Gunn about a year ago, and she doubted the Balboas would take kindly to another stranger invading their space. "Uh…" Natalie's mouth went dry. "The…no, you ain't gotta do that," she said with a humourless chuckle and a forced, awkward grin.

"They're now your legal guardians, Natalie. Your grandmother appointed them in her will," Helen smoothly replied. Natalie didn't bother to ask how she had gotten access to her grandmother's will so quickly and easily, the thought never seemed to cross her mind.

"I…" Natalie was at a loss for words. Her hands began to shake and her mouth went drier than it already was. Her heart began to race, and she let out a tremulous breath, running a hand through her hair. "Okay, I… so, my granny's dead," Natalie stammered, moistening her bottom lip.

Both the social worker and the doctor nodded in sync, neither of them placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She was dead. Doris Goldmill, the one and only, was dead. Natalie no longer had to tolerate her constant rage fits, her relentless insults, her hair-pulling and face scratching. She never had to lie through her teeth to every social worker that made their way over to the Goldmill household, ever again. She would never have to-

Before Natalie could finish that thought, she buried her face in her hands, bursting into tears. She felt every emotion on earth simultaneously, but oddly enough, she couldn't pinpoint a single one.

Wait a minute. Shouldn't she be crushed, depressed? Unable to go on, completely and utterly devastated? She wasn't. She didn't know how she felt, but she certainly wasn't howling with unbridled grief over losing Granny Dearest. For a moment, only a moment, guilt burned into Natalie's soul.

But then, she remembered.

DECEMBER 27TH, 1989

"You know, honey, I feel pretty bad for you. Sellin' yourself to get your granny cash ain't no way to celebrate your 13th birthday," Marie said, vehemently sharpening her nails, a cigarette dangling out of her mouth. Her hair, a tousled, dirty blonde mess, was piled up on her head in something that could only be described as a rat's nest.

"Uh-huh," Natalie deadpanned, eyes wide open beneath thick glasses, back pressed against the brick wall, hands trembling uncontrollably. That was all she had managed to say ever since her grandmother nearly shoved her out the car, hollering at her to ask the nice lady at the wall what to do.

"So, you already know what to do, right?" Marie asked, stomping her cigarette out with her heel. Natalie opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get out a reply, she heard a yell.

"GET OFF MY PROPERTY!" the voice screamed. It belonged to a stout, short man sporting a fisherman's hat and a filthy jacket, holding a baseball bat with both hands.

"Oh, honey, let's go over to the Atomic Hoagie Shop, there'll be customers there," Marie said with a sluggish groan, grabbing Natalie by the arm. The man's expression suddenly changed as he saw Natalie's face, and he reached out to touch her on the sleeve.

"Yo, ain't you-"

On impulse, before the man could finish his sentence, Natalie shut her eyes and let out a horrible, blood curdling scream that was loud enough to wake the dead. Immediately, she ran, nearly knocking over Marie as she sprinted away.

After a minute or two, Natalie stopped, letting Marie catch up to her. The two were both out of breath, and Marie leaned against another brick wall, panting for nearly another minute.

"You know, honey, you better stop doin' that," Marie said, letting out another exhausted pant before she walked away with Natalie in tow, grabbing her by the elbow again.

DECEMBER 29TH, 1991 -

"You okay?" Dr. Johnson said softly, her voice smooth and silky. Natalie nodded, moistening her bottom lip and adjusting her glasses. "I'm good," was her short, clipped reply.

"Alright, Natalie, I can tell that you're exhausted, I'll be leaving soon. Here's my card, call in the morning. I assume you're being kept overnight, is she being kept overnight?" Ms. Mark asked Dr. Johnson, arching her eyebrows inquisitively.

"Yes, she is," the dark-skinned woman replied, nodding somberly.

"Alright, great. I'll see you soon, then," Ms. Mark said to Natalie, giving the ginger a small smile before exiting the room.

"Natalie, I'll see you in the morning, hon. Here's the remote control to the T.V if you'd like to watch anything. Goodnight, kiddo," Dr. Johnson said, brightly smiling at Natalie before closing the door behind her.

Natalie let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding in before getting up to switch off the light.

Her hands were trembling as she climbed back into bed. No, scratch that. Natalie's entire body was trembling as she laid her head on the pillow, and for just a moment, she was once again that innocent young girl, hanging out on a street corner waiting for someone to come by.

God, she just wanted to crawl into her own skin. Natalie shut her eyes, desperately trying to clear her mind of every thought she had before she finally drifted off to sleep.

DECEMBER 30TH, 1991

Natalie sat in the backseat of Ms. Mark's car, arms crossed, chin against chest, dozing off. Once they arrived in front of Natalie's old house, the ginger woke with a start almost immediately. She lightly hit the side of her face to wake herself up, letting out a tired groan as she hopped out the car.

"Natalie, do you need this?" Ms. Mark said, tapping Natalie on the shoulder, holding out a garbage bag. Natalie shook her head, letting out a sigh.

"I ain't got a lot of stuff, Ms. Mark. It'll fit in my backpack with all my homework and school shit, uh, I mean, stuff," the redhead stammered, not bothering to wait around for a response.

Jesus. What in the hell did Ms. Mark expect her to do, haul around a trash bag all day long until school ended? Natalie scoffed, shaking her head as she dug into the pocket of her worn out jeans. Inserting her key into the lock, she opened the door, stepping inside of the place she called home.

She grabbed her backpack off of the floor. If she closed her eyes, and thought hard enough, she could practically envision her grandmother lying in front of the television, half-asleep. Natalie would always try her hardest to sneak by her, to get in bed and go to sleep without hearing another complaint, but unfortunately, she always failed.

Letting out a sigh and shaking her head, Natalie walked into the bathroom, picking up her toothbrush, toothpaste, and hairbrush, carefully tucking them away in her backpack. She picked up a box of tampons, shoving them away in her bag before taking a look at the bathtub. Natalie had spent countless hours lying in that tub. It had become some sort of safe space for the teenager, she could be alone with her own thoughts.

Oh, lord, she remembered the time when her grandmother burst through the bathroom door, yelling at her about an unfinished chore, or some dumb raunchy magazine that she had found, Natalie couldn't quite remember. Her grandmother had ended the rant with something along the lines of 'You're a horrible person,' to which Natalie retorted, 'At least I ain't pimping my own granddaughter out for cash.'

Natalie had gotten a sharp pop to the back of the head for that. She didn't regret a single word she said, and she couldn't help but wear a giant grin for the rest of the week. People had asked why, of course, but it wasn't as if she could tell them.

Jennifer (her mother) had died very young, only 20 years of age. Heroin overdose. Natalie had only been about three. Her father… her father could've been Tom Cruise, for all she knew. According to her grandmother, her parents had been in a relationship when Natalie was born, but he left about a year after. There was not a single thing to remember him by.

Natalie placed the picture into her backpack, opening the closet door. She spent the next ten minutes or so tiredly folding her clothes and packing them away, letting out an exhausted sigh when she was finally finished. Hauling her backpack over her shoulder, the sullen ginger walked out of her former home and never looked back.

She sharply rapped on the window of Ms. Mark's car, making the petite blonde jump. Natalie hopped back into the car, raking a hand through her hair before crossing her legs. "Well, that was fast," Ms. Mark muttered with an awkward chuckle. Natalie shrugged nonchalantly. "Told you I ain't got a lot of stuff," she replied, moistening her bottom lip as Ms. Mark started the engine.

"Natalie, what's your favorite subject in school?" Ms. Mark abruptly asked, her thin, fragile voice cutting through the air. There was something about the blonde social worker that made Natalie uncomfortable, something that she couldn't quite recognize or pinpoint.

"Uh, history," Natalie deadpanned, lightly dragging her nails over her flesh, giving her something to do with her hands. "Oh, that's great! When I was your age, I loved history," the doll-like social worker replied, immediately going off on a tangent about her younger years. The woman's high pitched, syrupy sweet voice made the car seem significantly more claustrophobic to the sullen ginger.

Natalie did not pay attention to the petite woman's nostalgic rambling, opting to stare out the window with her chin resting in her hand, letting out a few 'mm-hm's and 'uh-huh's every now and then.

"Alright, Miss Natalie, here's your stop," Ms. Mark jovially said, turning around to give Natalie a lipstick stained, slightly yellow grin. Natalie grimaced, giving the social worker a nod as she stepped out of the car. "Thanks for the ride, Ms. Mark," the ginger deadpanned, hauling her backpack over her shoulders and closing the car door behind her. Before Natalie could, however, she heard Ms. Mark let out a small exclamation. Holding the door open, the blonde leaned forward, opening her mouth to speak.

"Call me Helen, honey. When does your school get out?" Helen asked, innocently tilting her head to the side. "Three," Natalie nonchalantly replied, turning around once more. "Oh, wait a minute now, honey," Helen called in that cloying, syrupy sweet voice of hers. She grabbed Natalie by the sleeve of her jean jacket.

"I'll be taking you over to the Balboas when you get out of school, okay? They're eager for you, honey, so don't you worry about anything, alright?" Helen said, patting Natalie on the arm as the ginger gave her a tight smile.

"Right," Natalie replied, slowly pulling away from her counterpart. Finally, she shut the car door behind her and walked into the school before Holly or whatever her name was could give the redhead another cutesy little anecdote.

Natalie didn't make it two steps inside the school before her name was called by a familiar voice, a voice belonging to whom Natalie liked to describe as a disgrace to gingers: none other than Chickie Martin.

"Hey, Nat, tough break, huh, sweetie?" Chickie called, jogging over to his fellow redhead. "Heard all about it on the news. Ain't nobody gonna miss your old lady's old lady, if you get what I mean," he said, giving Natalie his signature 'tough guy' smirk and an aggravating pop on the shoulder.

Hm. How bad would the consequences be if she popped him in the nose right here and now? "Aw, you ain't gonna talk to me? Hey, come on, say somethin'," Chickie pleaded, giving Natalie another pop on the shoulder. The ginger clenched her jaw, balling her hands into fists. She itched to slap him in the mouth, give him a little lesson. Natalie was just about to teach the stout, ruddy faced teenager that you don't mess with a Goldmill when Robert and Jewel showed up.

"Leave her alone, Chickie," Robert deadpanned, casually shoving Chickie away as if it were part of his daily routine. By now, it probably was. "Yeah, shut up," Jewel chimed in, tightening her grip on her boyfriend's hand. Natalie suppressed a laugh, Jewel barely came up to Natalie's chin, what was she going to do to Chickie? Tear him a new one? Natalie doubted it.

"Uh, thanks," Natalie hurriedly said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "For, uh, gettin' him away from me," she hastily added, quickly looking away from the duo.

Natalie moistened her bottom lip, and for whatever reason, hot tears began to form in her eyes, fogging up her glasses. "Hey, Nat, you okay?" Jewel softly asked, touching Natalie on the sleeve. The blonde was almost certainly the most touchy-feely person on Earth, which Natalie admittedly didn't like. Times like these, however- she needed the comfort.

"Oh, I'm okay. Uh...my granny died yesterday," Natalie muttered, taking off her glasses and wiping her eyes. Jewel gasped, her hands immediately flying up to her face to cover her mouth. "Nat, I'm sorry," the young girl said, taking Natalie in her arms. Natalie moistened her bottom lip, hesitating before returning the much-needed embrace. Letting out a tremulous breath, she momentarily rested her head on Jewel's head before pulling away.

"Thanks, Jewel," the redhead muttered, giving her counterpart an awkward grin. Jewel tilted her head to the side, pursing her lips before opening her mouth to speak. "Where you gonna live now? Got a place to go, or you sleepin' rough?" the teenager asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Her brow was furrowed, and she was fiddling with the rosary on her neck.

"Well, uh… actually, I…" Natalie's voice trailed off, and she locked eyes with Robert. She arched an eyebrow, giving the Italian an 'are you gonna tell her?' look.

Robert blinked, moistening his bottom lip before turning to his girlfriend. "She's gonna be staying with me, her grandma's will said that, uh, my parents are her legal guardians now," Robert said to Jewel, who turned back to Natalie momentarily to give her a tight, obviously forced smile.

"Oh," Jewel replied, looking Natalie up and down. She narrowed her eyes at the ginger standing before her. There was an unusually sharp look in her eyes, and Natalie couldn't help but be a little surprised.

"Hey, he's your boyfriend, Jewel," Natalie responded with a shrug before the blonde had a chance to say anything. She didn't need to be a genius to figure out what Jewel was thinking. Not my side of the fence, she thought to herself. It wasn't as if she was going to say anything, of course, she couldn't risk a gay bashing or a ban from the Atomic Hoagie shop, she knew how conservative the owners were.

Word went around quickly in South Philly, if she told someone she was gay, the entire tri state area would know within a half hour. Natalie was perfectly fine with relentlessly daydreaming about Drew Barrymore being her girlfriend. Coming out didn't seem… possible.

Jewel gave a humorless smile. "You're right." There was an awkward moment of silence as Jewel walked away. "She cares, what can I say?" Natalie said with another awkward grin, flashing an equally awkward thumbs up. Robert grimaced in response. Jewel was usually a total sweetheart, but when it came to Robert- she could be a little protective.

"Yeah. See you, I guess," Robert muttered, giving Natalie a feeble wave as he walked off to class, leaving her in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the hallway. Natalie didn't blame Robert for being distant. She knew all about the fiasco with Tommy Gunn last year. Hell, every person in Philly knew every detail of the whole thing! Natalie had heard all about the notorious Gunn. vs. Balboa Christmas street fight, but hadn't seen it herself.

She was… working.

Natalie distinctly remembered walking home that evening, about three in the morning or so. The streets were empty except for a stray dog or two. Natalie couldn't stop shaking, due to the cold and due to the fear. There she was, all alone at three in the goddamned morning in one of the most dangerous parts of the city. Fear raced through her veins, it made her pulse feel like pure lightning, it made her heart pound in her chest until it hurt. Tears had cascaded down her face that night. Natalie had never felt such a horrible feeling in her entire life, and she couldn't pinpoint the reason why.

She had done this more times than she could count, why was tonight so horrifically unbearable?

Then Natalie realized: It was the holiday season. Every other person was curled up in bed, happy, peaceful, loving, filled to the brim with joy. And then, there was Natalie: selling herself to get her grandmother cash, heels in one hand, mace in the other. Her mother would be disgusted with her.

That night, when Natalie finally got home, she scratched at her skin until she drew blood and screamed into her pillow until her throat ached and stung simultaneously. She realized, that very day, that she was never going to be happy.

Someone brushing against her brought the ginger out of her flashback. Natalie jumped, letting out a small gasp before tightening her grip on the straps of her backpack. Immediately, she began to walk to her first class of the day, chills running up and down her spine.

3:05 PM - Natalie stood in the middle of the school yard, tapping her foot and checking her watch while she waited for Helen to show up and take her to the Balboa's place. Considering she was being driven, and Robert was walking, she'd almost certainly get there before him. Just as she began to consider forgetting all about Helen and walking over with Robert, the social worker pulled up in her beat-up car and loudly honked.

"Well, that's my cue," Natalie said to no one in particular, raking a hand through her hair before walking towards the car.

"Hey, Nat!" Jesus. Seemed like everybody wanted to talk to her these days.

"Yeah?" the redhead deadpanned, turning around to look at whoever was calling her name. Turned out to be none other than Robert Balboa himself.

"Uh, you know where we live, right? 2843 Abernathy Street?" Robert asked, raising his eyebrows as he zipped up his coat. Natalie nodded, turning away from the short Italian. They did not speak another word to each other before Natalie got into the car.

"2843 Abernathy Street," Natalie quietly said to Helen, who was sitting in the driver's seat. Her hands gripped the wheel at a perfect '10 and 2', and her unnervingly blue eyes stared off into the distance. She was focused, no doubt about it, and Natalie couldn't help but let out a chuckle. Her grandmother had driven as erratically as humanly possible, so the social worker's precise driving was undoubtedly a change for Natalie.

Speaking of her grandmother, Natalie didn't know why she had suddenly broke down in tears at the thought of her. The woman had raised her alone since her grandfather, Mickey, had passed, maybe she deserved some of Natalie's tears for that. Doris had fed Natalie, clothed her, and given her shelter (well, most nights), but Natalie could not remember a single time where she read the ginger a bedtime story, or helped her with her homework.

'I love you''s were only said three or four times a year, always with an empty stare and a deadpan tone. Natalie violently shook her head, forcing the memories out of her mind.

The car had stopped. Helen turned around to face Natalie, giving the ginger another ruby red grin. "Natalie, honey, it's been a pleasure. Here, take my card again, it's always good to have a duplicate, okay? I'll see you soon," the petite blonde smoothly said, having probably practiced the speech at least a hundred times. Natalie gave the social worker a wan smile and a toneless 'thank you' before stepping out of the car.

Well.

There she was. Right in front of where the Balboas lived. All she had to do was knock, and the Balboas would usher her in, scolding her for being out in the cold all alone. They'd be perfectly sweet to her, they wouldn't pimp her out like her grandmother, they'd never assign her a single chore and she'd be living the posh lifestyle until the day she died. Natalie scoffed, aware of how absolutely ridiculous the idea was. This wasn't some dumb story, this was reality, and she had to face it.

Maybe this was all some elaborate scam, and she'd open the door, and they'd laugh in her face, calling her every name under the sun before they shoved her away.

"Natalie?" The voice, as familiar as it was, made Natalie flinch. Robert was standing next to her, holding his keys. He arched an eyebrow inquisitively at the redhead. "You wanna go in?" he asked, sounding bored and disinterested.

Natalie tried to match his tone, trying not to let on how nervous she was. "Yeah, I guess," the redhead muttered, giving her dark haired counterpart a shrug.

"Alright," Robert muttered, inserting his key into the door, pushing it open. Natalie hadn't even gotten one foot in the door before she heard a voice.

"Yo, kid is that you?" a familiar voice called. It had more of a slur to it than Natalie remembered. She had briefly heard Rocky talk last night, but considering everything in the past 17 or so hours had been a blur, she couldn't remember anything very well. Her train of thought suddenly came to a stop as she heard someone call her name.

"Yo, Natalie! How you doin'?" Rocky called, walking towards her with a massive, childish grin on his face. His wife (Natalie couldn't remember her name) followed close by, her hands clasped in front of her waist and a tight smile plastered on her face.

"Hi, Mr. Balboa," Natalie said, giving the tall, muscular Italian a stiff, awkward hug. Physical affection did not come easily to her, primarily because of her upbringing. She immediately tensed as he embraced her, and she had to fight back the urge to pull away from him.

"Hello, Natalie, it's so good to see you again," Rocky's wife said, opening her arms to give Natalie another warm embrace. The petite brunette patted Natalie on the back before pulling away, the same tight smile plastered on her face.

"Ha, uh, you too, Mrs. Balboa," Natalie stammered ought, tears suddenly brimming in her eyes. Natalie didn't have a clue why, of course, but she knew one thing: If she kept on crying for unknown reasons, she was going to have a pretty big issue on her hands.

"Oh, sweetheart, please call me Adrian," Rocky's wife said, giving Natalie a pat on the arm. Jesus, did the woman have a 'patting' fetish or something? Was that even a word in the first place?

"And you can call me Rocky," Rocky added jovially, bearing the same childish, idiotic, toothy grin that he had when Natalie first walked in. At least the guy's consistent, Natalie thought to herself, forcing a small smile on her face.

"Yo, kid, show Natalie to where she's stayin', okay?" Rocky said, giving Robert a lighthearted punch on the shoulder. The small teenager listlessly nodded, muttering something along the lines of 'come on' to Natalie before making his way over to the staircase.

Natalie pressed her lips together in another awkward smile as she followed Robert downstairs into the basement.

"So, uh. Make yourself at home, I guess," Robert mumbled, giving Natalie a small shrug, pointing towards the couch against the wall. Boxing memorabilia hung from the walls, along with a sentimental family picture here and there. Natalie slowly set her backpack on the couch before letting out a long, tremulous breath. This was where she was going to live, this was her life now. The idea refused to settle in her mind, it didn't sink in at all.

How long was she going to live like this? The next three years? Natalie couldn't even fathom it, and she'd only been here for about ten minutes.

Natalie shrugged. Eh, she'd have to get comfortable at some point in time, wouldn't she? She might as well start now and get down to doing her homework. There were equations to be solved, and vocabulary words to be learned, dammit.

8:07 PM

"This spaghetti is real good, Adrian," Natalie said with a smile, cutting a noodle in half with her fork. "It's rigatoni," Robert deadpanned from his seat across from her.

Natalie's face immediately began to burn with embarrassment, and she looked down at her plate. Idiot, now they're going to think you're stupid, she thought to herself, all sorts of scenarios immediately popping up in her mind.

"Oh, Robert, don't, don't tease her," Adrian stammered, shooting her son a glare. "It's Natalie, spaghetti," Adrian said with a nod and a tight smile, blinking hard as she realized her mistake.

"Oh, I mean, it's spaghetti, Natalie, I'm sorry," the petite brunette said, awkwardly chuckling before her eyes averted themselves back to her plate. Natalie nodded in acknowledgement as she began to eat again.

There was a brief pause before Natalie heard a door open- well, more like she heard a loud crash, a familiar slurred yell, and a garbled, likely drunken scream all in the span of three seconds. "One, two, three," Robert muttered, rolling his eyes as he twirled his spaghetti around a fork. "Here they come."

"Ello," a voice shouted. It was oddly familiar, not as familiar as Mr. Balboa's marble mouthed, drunken-sounding, barely comprehensible South Philly slur, but Natalie knew it from somewhere…

Natalie's heart stopped as the owner of the voice entered the kitchen. It- it was the guy, the man, the guy from two years ago with the baseball bat and the fisherman's hat, the guy who had charged at Natalie and Marie, hollering that they had to get off his property. He was the same man who had grabbed her by the sleeve and asked her who she was, he was the same man that Natalie ran from, screaming and yelling bloody murder-

"Who're you?"

Natalie blinked. The man had an eyebrow arched, and a hand clasped around a flask. The fisherman's hat he had sported when Natalie saw him last was tightly placed around his head, and the foul, resentful attitude was clearly ever present.

"Uh, Natalie… Natalie Goldmill, Mickey's granddaughter," the ginger stammered out, trying not to let on how relieved she was that he didn't recognize her. "Why'd your mother name you that?" the man drily replied, stuffing a flask in the pocket of his jacket before shuffling off to the cesspool he crawled out of.

"Yo, I'm sorry about him, uh, I ain't sure if you remember him, but, uh, that's Paulie, Adrian's brother. He ain't in a talkin' mood right now," Rocky hurriedly explained with his signature childlike grin, making a variety of quick hand gestures as he pulled out a seat to sit down.

Natalie briefly nodded as she looked back down at her plate. Did he need to sit so close to her, was that his idea of being nice? She couldn't help but shy away from him, pressing her lips together tightly.

"You know, your grandfather, he, he was my trainer, you know?" Rocky rambled, scooting even closer to Natalie until their knees nearly touched. Natalie immediately tensed up, drawing in a sharp breath. "Woo, he could get real, real, nasty. Real nasty. You know, he, he'd always, uh…" Rocky trailed off, resting his chin in his hand, pausing momentarily. There was some sort of energy in his eyes that Natalie hadn't seen.

"He, uh… he'd make me tie a string 'round my ankles, 'cause I ain't got no balance, right? He says to me, Mick says to me-" Rocky moistened his bottom lip, pressing his hands together. "Rocky Marciano had the same problem, you ever heard of him?" Rocky asked, pointing his clasped hands toward Natalie.

Natalie nodded. Of course I do, dim-wit, I got Mickey Goldmill as my grandpa, she thought to herself. Rocky nodded, opening his mouth to speak.

"Well, I-"

"Natalie, how'd your mom die?" Robert abruptly interjected, leaning forward across the table as Natalie's train of thought came to a screeching halt.

"Sweetheart, we've talked about this, don't get personal," Adrian said firmly, patting her son's shoulder with a warning look. "I'm sorry, Natalie," Adrian whispered, briefly glancing at the ginger.

"Listen to your mother," Rocky added, gesturing at his son with a fork. He glanced at Natalie as well, but without an utterance of apology. It was almost as if he was telling Natalie not to answer Robert's question, and to be frank, Natalie didn't blame him one bit.

Still, she could tell Robert felt a little guilty over asking, and she didn't want to be the one to upset him. Besides, he asked, didn't he deserve an answer? Well, on second thought, the truth would probably upset him even more than a brief reprimand from his parents.

Before she could think it through, Natalie opened her mouth to speak. She looked Robert dead in the eye. "Heroin overdose," the ginger said crisply and evenly, not breaking eye contact for a second. Her jaw was slightly clenched, her hands were balled into fists underneath the table, and there was a certain hot, unpleasant feeling in her chest that she was all too familiar with: the feeling of being violated, the feeling of her dignity being torn to shreds.

Robert immediately recoiled, making a small choking noise. His eyes became a little wider, and his frame became a little smaller.

He sat there in stunned silence for a moment before speaking. "Sorry," he muttered, not looking directly at Natalie. The entire room suddenly became incredibly, incredibly quiet. Natalie never knew silence could be so loud.

Natalie immediately regretted answering. It didn't make her feel any better about herself as a human being, that was for sure. For a moment, she questioned her intentions, did she answer out of spite, did she answer because she wanted to? Maybe she should've just told him to fuck off and mind his own damn business. Besides, if she didn't want to answer, nobody was holding a damn gun to her head, she didn't have to upset herself, or him...

"I'm sorry if I upset you," Natalie mumbled, letting out a small, nervous chuckle. "Nah. I asked," Robert deadpanned, his face completely devoid of expression.

Shit. If Mr. Salt-of-the-Earth, born and raised in the lap of luxury thought that was bad, wait until he heard about Natalie's days as a prostitute. Now that would knock his socks off, wouldn't it, Natalie thought to herself.

"Yo, uh…" Rocky paused, getting up from his chair along with his wife. "He asked, you know?" The tall Italian pushed his chair in with an awkward laugh as he made his way over to the sink, Adrian following closely behind.

"Oh, uh, can I help with the dishes?" Natalie asked, gazing up at the husband and wife. Rocky shook his head, making a 'shoo' motion with his hand. "Nah, you ain't gotta help. You two," he looked at Natalie, then at Robert.

"Get to bed, you got a long day tomorrow. Gotta go to school and everythin'," Rocky said, running a hand through his slightly disheveled black curls.

"Okay," Natalie softly replied, getting up from her chair. She wasn't used to being told what to do like this. Usually, instructions were shouted at her by Granny Dearest, she was never gently told what to do, she didn't even dream about it.

"Goodnight, everyone," Natalie said, forcing a smile on her face as she left the kitchen 'Goodnight's' and 'see you tomorrow's' followed closely behind her as she scurried downstairs and practically collapsed on the couch.

Wowie. Had there ever been a more a more awkward, uncomfortable, tension filled moment in the Balboa household? Natalie doubted it.

The ginger checked her watch. 8:38. She rarely, if ever, went to sleep this early. Dozing off around two or three was more her scene, but she doubted that would be A-OK with the Balboa family. The ginger shook her head, ridding herself of every thought she had before pulling the scratchy quilt the Balboa's provided her with over her chin. She'd wait until tomorrow to drive herself crazy and incessantly scold herself.


	3. Chapter 3

6:09 AM, DECEMBER 31ST, 1991

"Good morning, Philly," Natalie muttered to herself, tearing off her quilt as her feet hit the cold, hard floor. Her eyes, still blurry with sleep, suddenly shot wide open.

The ginger's heart immediately started to race as she drew in a sharp breath. Where was she, what was going on? Natalie frantically looked around her as she grabbed her glasses, her lips parting as she tried to make sense of where she was.

Natalie let out a sigh of relief as she saw Robert lying in his bed, an arm hanging off his bed. Suddenly, everything came back to her.

She was alright, there was nothing to worry about for the time being. Natalie took in a sharp breath, balling up the fabric of her jeans in her hands, feeling her chest begin to tighten.

There had been countless times when Natalie woke up in alleyways, crackhouses, roach-infested apartments, or sleazy motel rooms, barely able to think. The awful ache between her legs and the sour, bitter taste in her throat told her everything she needed to know about the night before.

Natalie shuddered as she tried to push the memories out of her mind. A nice, good cup of joe was exactly what she needed.

The redhead walked up into the kitchen, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table and taking a seat. Tapping her fingers against the wood of the table, she let out a deep breath.

What had she gotten up for in the first place? Coffee, right? Good ol' cup of joe to calm her nerves, Natalie thought to herself, letting out a sigh. Well, she felt perfectly fine now, except for the God-awful caffeine headache that she had to nurse at some point in time.

Natalie looked up to see Rocky tiredly stumbling over to the fridge. He opened it and peered inside, letting out a deep sigh. Natalie widened her eyes as the statuesque Italian removed an egg carton from the fridge, opened it, and started cracking eggs into a glass. She tilted her head to the side, slightly furrowing her brow. He hadn't noticed her yet, had he?

Well, judging by the way he was chugging those raw eggs, he certainly hadn't.

Natalie tried to suppress a gagging noise, clamping her hand over her mouth as she looked away. She briefly contemplated ringing up Ms. Mark and telling her to get her the hell out of this joint, or maybe waking up Robert and asking him where the nearest mental institution was.

Before Natalie could make a decision, the tall Italian wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater, giving Natalie a jovial, toothy grin.

"It's good for you," Rocky explained, placing his glass in the sink before walking over to the table, pulling out a chair. The tall Italian grabbed a newspaper and began casually leafing through it. Natalie looked down at her lap, twiddling her thumbs. The air was filled with an awkward tension that likely wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

"Uh…do you got a coffee machine?" Natalie asked after a moment, unsure of how to start a conversation.

Rocky looked a little taken aback, and frankly, Natalie didn't blame him. Social interactions weren't exactly her specialty in the first place, she had to admit.

She didn't know what Rocky expected out of her anyway. Maybe he expected a kind-hearted, impeccably mannered social butterfly that could talk your ear off, but if that's what he bargained for, he was going to be extremely disappointed.

"Yeah, we got a coffee machine. No, no, don't get up, I'll make it for you," Rocky said, getting up from his seat. "You drink coffee a lot?" the tall Italian asked.

Natalie nodded before she realized he couldn't see her. Idiot.

"No more than the average American," Natalie deadpanned, staring off into space. Dammit, what did he want with her?

Natalie flinched as Rocky placed a cup of coffee in front of her, startled by the sudden noise. "Thank you," the ginger muttered, staring blankly at the pool of dark liquid sloshing around.

Rocky opened his mouth to speak, and Natalie struggled to refrain from rolling her eyes. Mercy, what did this brainless dago want to yap about now?

"Last day of 1991, ain't it?" Rocky said, leaning forward across the table.

Natalie's eyes widened, she hadn't really given much thought to it. Last day of 1991. Huh, maybe 1992 would go a little easier on her, it wouldn't be as awful as the past fifteen years, Natalie mused, staring off into space.

"You lookin' forward to the new year? I sure am," Rocky rambled, not bothering to wait for Natalie's response.

"You know, I tried to tell Adrian we should hold a little get-together, you know? Have a little party. But, you know how Adrian is, she's sufferin' from the disease of being shy. After all these years, still sufferin', I think it's terminal, don't you?" Rocky joked, laughing like a little kid as he continued to ramble.

"Ha. I mean, uh… guess she didn't get her shots in time," Natalie weakly offered, giving Rocky a wan smile as she took a sip of her coffee. _Oh, sweet brown baby Jesus, take me now,_ the ginger thought to herself. _I know I'm a Jew , but take me now._

"You're a funny one. You and I should get along good, real good," Rocky said as the lights switched on.

Natalie once again flinched at the sudden noise. Rocky's wife stood in the doorway of the kitchen, a small, wan smile on her face.

"Morning," Adrian brightly said, making her way over to Rocky as she planted a kiss on her husband's lips.

"Mornin', Mrs. Balboa," Natalie muttered, her mouth closing around the rim of her coffee cup.

"Hello," Adrian replied jovially, giving Natalie a pat on the shoulder as she opened the refrigerator.

"Are you hungry?" the petite brunette asked, turning towards Natalie with a carton of milk in hand. Natalie was about to reply before her mind took a turn towards something significantly raunchier than eggs and bacon.

Adrian's nipples were pointing through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Natalie immediately began to blush, drawing in a sharp breath. She was not going to think about Adrian like that, she was not going to think about Adrian like that, she was not-

"Uh, well, I could eat," Natalie stammered, immediately halting her train of thoughts.

"Food, I could eat food. I could eat food," Natalie hurriedly said, immediately tearing her gaze away from Adrian.

"Alright, Natalie, how do pancakes sound?" Adrian asked, not seeming to notice the way Natalie was looking at her.

Staring at the breasts of the wife of a two time heavyweight world champion was most certainly not the best idea. Natalie had a pillow to hump and a Drew Barrymore poster to look at while humping said pillow, she would be fine.

Natalie squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, slowly letting it out as she tried to ignore the heat dancing across her skin.

"Natalie, why don't you you go to the basement and wake up the kid?" Rocky suggested.

"We'll have breakfast as a family, you know?" he said, giving Natalie a grin.

 _Ho-ho-ho, slow your roll there, pal_. Natalie blinked hard. There wasn't a chance he had just said-

"Yeah, sure, family breakfast, uh-huh," Natalie deadpanned, making a beeline for the stairs before she could get herself in trouble by making some sort of sarcastic remark.

"Family breakfast? Family breakfast my freckled ass," Natalie muttered as she walked down the stairs, making her way over to Robert.

"Rise and shine, darling," Natalie sarcastically drawled, knocking on Robert's forehead. The teenage boy let out a small groan of annoyance as he ran a hand through his hair.

"What?" Robert muttered, not bothering to move.

"Your dad wants us to have a 'family breakfast', whatever that means," Natalie replied, placing her hands on her hips.

Silence.

"Your mom's makin' pancakes," Natalie deadpanned, nudging the barely awake teenager huddled under a pile of blankets.

"Okay, okay," Robert mumbled, throwing the covers off of his body. "I'm up, I'm up."

"Huh, that was _fast,"_ Natalie remarked, placing her hand on the stair rail.

"Wait, Nat, you wore that yesterday," Robert said pointedly, arching an eyebrow at the ginger.

"And?" Natalie deadpanned, narrowing her eyes at the brown-haired, blurry eyed teenager.

Robert rolled his eyes as he casually slid out of bed, walking over to the stairs. He did not have to say another word to prove his point to Natalie.

Natalie placed her hands back on her hips as she let out a scoff. Like she was going to take orders from some stupid, rich boy wop like him. Who the fuck was he?

 _Okay, Natalie, enough with all the goddamn ethnic epithets. He's right, you haven't changed out of this shirt in three days,_ Natalie thought to herself, letting out a deep sigh.

Natalie walked up the stairs about ten minutes later, looking slightly more decent than she had shortly before. Violently raking a comb through one's disheveled hair could apparently do wonders.

"You need any help with them pancakes, Mrs. Balboa?" Natalie asked, meekly walking over to the stove.

"No, no, that's alright," Adrian replied with a small, nervous chuckle, giving Natalie a barely noticeable smile.

"Natalie, do we have school today?" Robert asked, slouching down in his chair with his chin resting in his hand.

"It's New Years Eve, slow-poke," Natalie deadpanned, rolling her eyes as she pulled out a chair.

"Don't be mean," Robert said defensively, furrowing his brow at the surly ginger. "I was just askin' a question."

"A dumb question," Natalie replied with a snort, sneering at the boy sitting across from her.

Robert shrugged, immediately returning to what seemed to be his favorite activity: Being a sullen little bitch.

"Natalie, you wanna watch the ball drop with us?" Rocky asked, walking over to the stove. He rested his hands on the opening bar of the oven, casually jutting his hip out.

Natalie arched an eyebrow. "The, uh, the what? Huh?"

"Oh, uh…" Rocky quickly seemed to realize that Natalie didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

"In New York, there's a, a ball that drops every new year. It's fun. You wanna watch it with us?" the tall Italian asked, raising his eyebrows.

Well, it wasn't as if Natalie had anything better to do, did she? Then again, wallowing in her own self pity for the fifteenth new year in a row couldn't be that bad…

"Um…"

Natalie snagged her bottom lip on her teeth as she slowly exhaled.

"Sure, I mean, I ain't got much to do, so…" Natalie mumbled, twiddling her thumbs in her lap as she sat silently in her chair.

"Excellent. Real, real, excellent. I'll tell you now, we're gon' have a little get together, a little party," Rocky rambled, an excited, childish smile that seemed to be planted on his face looking brighter than ever.

"Oh, Rocky, who said anything about a party?" Adrian groaned exhaustedly, shoveling pancakes onto a nearby plate.

"Sorry, Natalie, they're a little burnt," the petite brunette quickly explained before returning to her argument with her husband.

"We're not throwing a party, Rocky, we do that every year. This year, I'd like it to be a little quiet, just you, me, Paulie, and the kid," Adrian said with a groan as she cast a glance towards Natalie.

"And her, of course," Adrian quietly added, almost as if Natalie's existence was a mere afterthought to her. Natalie's gut twisted uncomfortably as she took in a sharp breath.

Perhaps she was being a bit oversensitive, but suddenly, she felt very, very small. Natalie's chest tightened as she twiddled her thumbs in her lap, trying to swallow the bile that was accumulating in her throat.

"We don't even know if she's Mick's granddaughter, Rocky," Adrian whispered, leaning forward and furrowing her brow. If she thought Natalie couldn't hear her, oh, boy, the bitch was wrong.

"Yeah, sure she is! Look, listen-" Rocky abruptly clapped his hands together as he turned to Natalie.

"Yo, uh…" The tall Italian's voice trailed off as he placed his hands on his hips, leaning back against the cluttered kitchen counter.

"What's, uh…. what do you call me?" Rocky asked, one side of his mouth lifting up into a crooked, uncomfortable looking grin.

Natalie furrowed her brow in disbelief and confusion, shifting her weight in her chair as she chewed on her bottom lip.

"Uh.. Rocky?" the ginger replied, the confused twang in her voice growing slightly stronger as the tall Italian shook his head.

"No, what I am. Like, like, what we are. You know, where we're from. Our, uh…" Rocky's mind scrambled to find the word he wanted to use. After a moment, he turned to his wife, looking at the small brunette expectantly.

"Our ethnicity," Adrian finished for her husband, smoothly sliding her arm around his with a tight, almost certainly fake smile plastered on her face.

"Oh, uh, that's easy," Natalie said with a shrug, more than slightly annoyed at the overly inquisitive couple. "Eye-talian."

There was a complete silence in the Balboa household for a good fifteen seconds before Rocky spoke.

"She's Mick's, Adri," the tall Italian said, raising his eyebrows pointedly at his wife. Adrian briefly glanced at Natalie, tightly pressing her lips together in a doubtful grimace.

Speaking of 'Mick', Natalie didn't think of him nearly as often as she should. Mickey was, after all, the one who shielded her from Granny during drunken rages, the one who checked for monsters every night, the one who held her close, kissed the top of her head, and told her he loved her. Natalie was able to see a side of him nobody else had: The kind, loving, gentle Mickey was a far contrast from the perpetually enraged hardass that the entirety of South Philly knew him to be.

To everyone else, he was an icon, a legend. To Natalie, he was just Grandpa.

Natalie clenched her jaw, ignoring the aching pain in her mouth. He was also the one who abandoned her the second the opportunity for a better life showed up, she could never forget that. Mickey had moved in with Rocky about a year after his daughter passed, leaving Natalie to the wolves. He had abandoned her.

If Mick had stayed his ass in South Philly, Natalie wouldn't have suffered at the hands of Granny Dearest as much as she did. She wouldn't have been a prostitute. She wouldn't have stumbled home night after night, thighs stained with blood, throat sour-tasting and raw, stomach aching, heart pounding. She wouldn't have spent a goddamn day being used-

Natalie shuddered, forcing herself to stop probing the possibilities of what could have been, to stop thinking of the past. She'd probably have to do it again at some point in time, as much as she hated to admit it.

It was just… her way of living.

º

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The rest of the day went by like a blink of an eye. Nothing much had happened, Robert had given her a few dirty looks here and there, peppering them in every so often. In return, she had mouthed a couple ethnic epithets in his general direction whenever his back was turned to her.

Natalie was just beginning to unfurl her middle finger again when Adrian trotted downstairs, her hands clasped tightly around her waist.

"Natalie, can you help me put up the decorations for the party?" the petite woman asked, wiping her hands on her long, conversative skirt. Natalie blinked, moistening her bottom lip as she sat up in her chair.

"You're havin' a party?" Natalie asked, furrowing her brow as she sat up in her chair.

"Rocky managed to convince me, so yes, we're havin' a party. Startin' it early, too," Adrian explained, raising her eyebrows expectantly at the gaping ginger.

"Uh, I'll help, sure," Natalie hurriedly said, getting up from her seat. The teenager's glasses slid down her nose as she made her way towards the stairs, hot on Adrian's heels.

"Remind me not to let Paulie pour bourbon into the punch this year," Adrian muttered as the duo walked into the kitchen.

"The whole neighborhood got sloppy drunk when he did it last time, not a good way to ring in the new year, I know," the brunette continued with an awkward laugh, lightly patting Natalie on the arm.

The whole neighborhood got sloppy drunk? Natalie furrowed her brow. The only 'sloppy' Natalie got for New Year's Eve 1990 was sloppy depressed.

Adrian casually handed Natalie half of a banner, hanging her half on a nail firmly planted in the wall. The banner read 'HAPPY NEW YEAR!' in obnoxiously bright, glittery letters that looked more appropriate for a five year old's birthday party, rather than a New Year's celebration.

Natalie pinned her half to the wall as well, looking over to Adrian for approval. In response, the small brunette gave her a tight smile.

"Good job," Adrian muttered, patting her on the back as she walked away.

"I won an award for banner puttin' up in third grade," Natalie joked, a jovial grin making her freckled features significantly brighter.

Adrian turned to her and let out a genuine, kind hearted laugh. It seemed like the older woman was beginning to warm up to the redheaded teenager very quickly.

As much as she didn't want to admit it, she wanted the Balboas to like her. Well, except for Robert, of course, she didn't give a rat's ass what he thought about her.

(Alright, well, maybe a little.)

If she wanted to stay here for a while, she'd have to get along with the family well, right? Dumb jokes seemed to be the pathway to their hearts, especially Rocky. She doubted the slow-witted Italian needed much to be happy.

º

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º

"Now it's a party," Rocky proclaimed as people started filing in, tossing their jackets to the floor and letting out obnoxious shouts of 'HEY, ROCK!'

Natalie's stomach twisted painfully as she looked down at the floor. Being around so many people… so many men immediately put Natalie on edge.

Her heart started to pound as she analyzed the faces of the newcomers. Could they hurt her? Were they a threat to her? Did she know them? Did they know her?

Natalie balled her hands into fists as her breathing turned shallow and quick. Her chest tightened up as she suddenly leapt from her seat on the couch and practically sprinted for the bathroom.

Slamming the door shut behind her, the ginger sat on the ground, her back pressed against the door as worst case scenarios flew through her mind. Natalie hyperventilated uncontrollably, tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

Natalie's chest painfully heaved as she gripped the edge of the sink, hoisting herself up. She stared at her reflection, forcing herself to breathe a little more evenly. The ginger violently shook her head, swallowing the bile accumulating in her mouth.

Natalie winced, pressing her lips together tightly. The painful, tight knot in her chest began to undo itself, and her hyperventilating slowly stopped.

Her wrists began to itch.

"Goddamnit," Natalie spat, screwing her eyes shut. She sure as shit wasn't going to go back out there and tap into her non-existent inner social butterfly, and she sure as shit couldn't stand another minute within the enclosed bathroom.

Her eyes drifted over to the razor placed on the bathroom sink. It seemed as if the small metal object was waiting expectantly for her, like some sort of sadistic 'welcome home' gift.

Before doubt could cloud her mind, the ginger grabbed the razor, pulled down the sleeve of her borrowed sweater, and made a cut.

Natalie let out something between a guffaw and a shriek as the blade pierced her skin. Quickly, she put it back to its original place, breathing in and out as her free hand gripped the sink.

The ginger forced herself to look at her reflection once more. God, she looked like a mess.

Natalie forced an obnoxious, cartoonish, fake smile upon her face as she reached for a comb to brush her hair with. The ginger raked the brush through her hair, letting out a tremulous breath as she did so.

Once she had deemed herself as presentable, Natalie threw open the door to the bathroom and promptly marched out, heading over to the kitchen to get herself a drink.

It usually took a lot more for Natalie to have a panic attack. A nightmare, a flashback, her grandmother's drunken rages. Not a crowd of dago brutes. Jesus, what was her problem-

Natalie stopped dead in her tracks, her breath immediately stolen away from her. Adrian was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of wine in her hand, sitting across a plain-faced, unruly haired woman around Adrian's age.

Next to them, however- next to them was the most beautiful girl Natalie had ever seen.

Her eyes, a beautiful, beautiful green twinkled with joy. Her hair, a lovely chocolate brown, cascaded down her back, and her smile gleamed with mischief. She was ethereal. Gorgeous. Stunning. Every positive word Natalie could think of.

"Natalie, I'm glad you're here," Adrian said jovially, placing her lipstick stained glass of wine down and guiding the ginger over to the table.

"This is Angela, she's your age," Adrian said with a sticky sweet tone, patting the ginger on the back.

Natalie blinked. Huh. Uh. Pretty girl. Gay, gay, I'm gay- my age, eh, uh- fuck-

"Hi, Natalie, I'm Angela," the ethereal girl said warmly, stretching out her hand with a kind smile.

"Wha- oh, uh, hi, real nice to meet you," Natalie replied after a moment, fitting her hand into Angela's. Her mouth formed a childish, crooked grin as Angela smiled again.

 _Huh. Pretty girl smile, uh, ha-_

"I've heard a lot about you, Natalie," Angela continued as she sat back down. Almost as if she were under a spell, Natalie blankly pulled out a chair, staring open mouthed at the gorgeous brunette.

"I seen you at school a couple times, you're always tellin' Chickie to shove off," Angela said with a shy giggle, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, yeah, he's a real disgrace to gingers. As far as I'm concerned, he's a strawberry blonde. Make him their problem, ha," Natalie stammered out, her brain completely running on autopilot. Pretty girls tended to have that effect on her.

"You're funny," Angela said, resting an elbow on the table. "I like that."

The statement was both simple and deadpan, but Natalie's heart melted all the same. The brunette's syrupy sweet South Philly drawl was making Natalie fall a little more in love by the minute.

"Well, we'll let you get to know each other," Adrian said as she left the kitchen, probably to mingle with the guests.

Ah. Adrian Balboa. Best unintentional wingwoman of the year.

"So, I hear you're 'Mighty Mick's' granddaughter," Angela said, crossing her ankles as she leaned back in her chair.

Natalie's heart sank as her hopes of having a decent conversation were dashed.

Apparently, the change in her demeanor did not go unnoticed by Angela. The brunette leaned forward, giving Natalie an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, you must have been hearin' those words all night," Angela muttered, pressing her lips together sheepishly.

Natalie gasped, flinching in her seat as she leaned forward to place a comforting, reassuring hand on her brunette counterpart.

"No, no, it's okay. I ain't even talked to anybody here," Natalie stammered out, her eyes wide with alarm. If she fucked this up, she'd never forgive herself-

Angela giggled again, a sound that made Natalie grin like a little kid. "Oh, don't worry 'bout it," the brunette said, patting Natalie on the arm.

"Introvert?" Angela asked, tilting her head to the side.

Natalie had no idea what that meant. She nodded.

"Yeah, been one all my life," the ginger replied, silently hoping that didn't mean something horrible.

"Well, I'm an extrovert, so we can, uh, balance each other out, eh?" Angela suggested, a barely perceptible smirk creeping onto her face.

The green eyed brunette could have been speaking Ancient Greek for all Natalie knew.

"Uh-huh," Natalie said, scooting in a little closer towards Angela. That was as brave as she could get regarding the flirting department.

Angela moistened her bottom lip as she looked the clueless ginger up and down, making heat pool down into Natalie's stomach (and other places.)

"Natalie Goldmill," Angela drawled, almost as if she were sounding out the ginger's name.

Natalie inquisitively arched an eyebrow, leaning forward. "What?"

A smirk spread across Angela's face. "Do you wanna dance?"

 _Huh. Dance. Pretty girl dance. Dance with me._

"Yeah, I'd love to," Natalie blurted out, momentarily forgetting that she had no idea how to dance.

"Oh, great. I hear they're playin' some real good stuff. But-" Angela leaned in again, almost if she were telling Natalie a sweet secret.

"If we touch Mr. Balboa's Carole King records, he'll kill us," the brunette muttered from the side of her mouth, giving Natalie a sly wink.

Natalie let out a guffaw as she got up from her chair, closely following Angela with the shyness of a small schoolgirl.

The moment Angela took Natalie by the hand and led her into the lively, fun-filled living room, a pang of fear suddenly struck her. She took in a sharp breath, making Angela turn around to face her.

Natalie didn't want anyone to think that she was...no, she didn't want anyone to know who or what she was.

Angela leaned in towards her, looking very concerned.

"You okay?" the brunette softly asked, furrowing her brow.

Natalie briskly, enthusiastically nodded, forcing a smile onto her face.

Angela shook her head, slightly narrowing her eyes at the obviously uncomfortable ginger.

"Nah, you ain't okay," the brunette muttered, raising her eyebrows as she looked Natalie up and down.

The ginger's stomach churned with unease as she waited for Angela to say something. Anything.

"Oh, you don't want no one to know?" Angela finally said after what seemed like eons, lowering her voice to a tone that was barely above a whisper.

Natalie blinked. "Know what?"

Angela's eyes suddenly shot wide open, and she jerked away from Natalie as if the ginger has given her some sort of painful shock.

"I'm sorry, I'm real sorry, I thought- well, you know what I thought," Angela rambled, taking in a deep, tremulous breath. She muttered something inaudible about having to leave and straight people and their bullshit, turning away from Natalie.

Oh.

She thought Natalie was _straight-_

"Wait, no," Natalie hurriedly called, grabbing Angela by the sleeve. "You got me right."

Angela blinked, a goofy, idiotic smile not unlike Mr. Balboa's appearing on her face. "I got you right, eh?" she said.

"Yeah, you got me," Natalie said with a small chuckle, trying to ignore the giddy, eager heat blossoming within her chest.

"And I don't mind dancin' with you, really. I don't," Natalie hurriedly explained, reaching out to awkwardly pat Angela on the shoulder.

"Yeah, I mean, no one's gonna see us dancin' and say, oh, there go them two lesbians," Angela replied, lowering her voice again with an awkward grin.

"I mean, we are them two lesbians, but, they don't gotta know-" Natalie let out a sigh of both exhaustion and relief, deciding that some words were better left unsaid.

"So, uh, you still wanna dance?" Angela muttered suggestively, snaking her hand towards the small of the ginger's back.

Natalie grinned. "Yeah."

"Okay, so, uh…" Angela gently took Natalie's hands in her own, entwining them together.

Natalie's heart skipped a beat.

Living out fantasy of dancing with a real pretty girl? Check.

Living out elaborate fantasy of threesome with Julia Roberts and Drew Barrymore? Not-check.

Angela moved their entwined hands back and forth, her movements lovably awkward. She drew Natalie closer in with a small smile before letting out a guffaw. Shaking her head, the brunette leaned in towards Natalie and muttered:

"Do you know what you're doin'? 'Cause I don't."

The uncomfortable knot of insecurity inside of Natalie's chest began to loosen. She let out a small, barely audible chuckle of relief. Angela didn't know what she was doing any more than Natalie did. They were a bunch of dumb lesbians attempting to dance on New Year's Eve, there was nothing more to i- okay.

"I ain't never danced before," Natalie sheepishly admitted, rubbing the back of her neck as if she had something to be awful sorry about.

"You and me both, Natalie, you and me both," Angela drawled soothingly, casually slipping her tongue between her teeth.

The innocent, kind hearted grin made Natalie's heart melt for what must have been the hundredth time since they met.

"Hey, whaddya say…" Angela nonchalantly pulled Natalie in by the belt loops, pressing their bodies together. The sudden action sent a jolt of electricity up Natalie's spine, and the devilish smirk accompanied with it sent another one.

"Whaddya say we get outta here, grab a couple of cherry sodas at the nearest corner store, and wait until midnight rolls around?" Angela whispered, tilting her head to the side as her gaze slowly drifted over Natalie.

That was it for Natalie. She was in love.

"Yes."

º

º

º

Angela swung open the door of Howie's Convenience Store, nonchalantly holding it open behind her. She gave Natalie a quick smile that made the shoddy, flickering lights of the corner store seem to burn a little brighter.

"So, cherry soda, right? That's your poison?" Angela inquired, grabbing Natalie by the hand and leading her over to the massive cooler smack dab in the middle of the store.

"Yeah, never cared too much for the other stuff," Natalie deadpanned, giving Angela a blasé shrug.

Angela had just grabbed two soda cans when she tensed up, drawing in a sharp breath as she abruptly took hold of Natalie's elbow.

Natalie's pulse began to quicken as Angela leaned towards her, whispering "Look behind you," to the startled ginger.

Natalie did as she was told, fear already beginning to brew within her gut. Worst case scenarios raced through her mind as she-

"Oh, it's just Chickie, why you scared of him?" Natalie unwisely asked, just loud enough for the entire store to hear. Unfortunately, that included the stocky teenager that Natalie had 'affectionately' dubbed a 'disgrace to gingers.'

"Hey, hey, Angela, you comin' to pick up your tampons?" Chickie called, strolling over to the duo with a smug smirk planted on his ruddy face. Natalie had jizzed in her pants at the thought of smacking it off of him more times than she could count.

"Funny, I was gonna ask you the same thing," Angela deadpanned, sweeping past the ruddy faced teenager as if he were invisible.

"You goin' to a party? Jewel there?" Chickie questioned, clearly not getting the hint from the aggravated brunette.

"You think Robert's givin' it to her good? Huh, you think Rocky Jr.'s got it goin' on?" the stocky teenager obnoxiously insisted, wedging himself between Natalie and Angela.

"Hey, we're just tryin' to get some sodas," Angela mumbled tonelessly, slamming the soda cans onto the checkout counter.

"And I'm just tryin' to get some, if you know what I mean. Guy's gotta eat."

Natalie's heart dropped to her stomach, her hands beginning to shake. Unease and fear coursed through her like liquid heat. Her entire being felt like lead yet like nothing at all, and she so desperately wished she still had Angela's soothing grip around her hand.

"Hey, you're upsettin' the lady. Get outta here, man," the cashier snarled at Chickie, making a 'shoo' motion with his hand.

Chickie sneered resentfully. "Hey, you know how broads are-"

"Just get outta here before I call the fuzz," the cashier snapped, sliding Angela's change across the counter. "Here you go, miss."

"Thank you," Angela said quietly, taking Natalie by the arm again as the duo practically sprinted out of the suddenly sinister convenience store.

"You okay?" Angela softly asked, placing a calming hand on the small of Natalie's back.

Natalie briskly nodded, holding back the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She refused to let Angela see her cry. She couldn't bear the thought of Angela seeing that-

"Oh, honey, it's okay," Angela whispered, and before Natalie could say another word, the tall brunette embraced her.

Natalie paused for a brief moment, unsure of how to respond to Angela's comforting hold. She shook her head, clearing her mind of any and all thoughts as she returned Angela's hug, letting out a tremulous breath.

As much as she didn't want to admit it, she needed it.

"Feelin' okay?" Angela asked after a minute or so, warmly patting Natalie on the back.

"Real okay," was Natalie's mildly muffled response before she slowly pulled away from the kind hearted beauty.

"I mean…" Angela's soft, loving voice trailed off. "No one wants to deal wit' him, really. He thinks he's a hot-shot, but I ain't gotta tell you that," the brunette sardonically continued, patting Natalie on the back.

"'Sides, I think you me and you could both go without that mental picture o' Robert and Jewel," Angela said with a laugh, lightly elbowing Natalie in the side as the duo walked along the sidewalk.

Natalie shuddered, suppressing the sudden urge to gag. "You're right, I ain't gotta think about that," the ginger groaned with a roll of her eyes.

Angela heartily chuckled, the light, ethereal sound echoing throughout the empty South Philly streets.

It was the most beautiful thing Natalie had ever heard.

"You're a funny one, you know that?" Angela said after a moment, turning to Natalie with a bright, jovial smile.

Natalie awkwardly laughed, shying away from Angela so she wouldn't see her furiously blushing underneath her winter hat.

Some time later, the duo made their way back to the Balboa house.

"You think they know we left?" Angela asked, plopping down on the stairs leading up to the shoddy row home.

"I dunno, maybe," Natalie deadpanned, her hand tentatively reaching for the doorknob.

Natalie paused. Frankly, going back into the obnoxious, unfathomably loud hustle and bustle of the Balboa household didn't sound particularly fun.

Come to think of it, she'd much rather sit out here with Angela, drinking cherry sodas and staring at the stars until the clock hit midnight.

"You wanna sit out here?" Angela asked, almost as if she could read the hesitant ginger's mind.

Natalie jovially grinned. "Sure."

Natalie made her way over to the top of the stairs where Angela sat, carefully lowering herself next to the tall brunette.

"Pretty cold out here, huh?" Angela said after a moment, raising her cherry soda to her lips.

"Oh, yeah, it's freezing," Natalie replied with a laugh, hugging her knees to her chest. She gave Angela a grin as she grabbed her soda can, gesturing it towards the brunette in a 'cheers' motion.

Angela playfully swatted her hand away, letting out another laugh. Natalie shrugged, popping open the tab of the soda can.

"I'm sure this ice cold cherry soda will warm me up," Natalie sarcastically drawled, lightly elbowing Angela in the side.

"Yeah, nothing like a cherry soda to warm you up in freezin' cold weather, am I right, or am I right?" Angela responded, taking a swig.

There was a long, long pause between the two girls before Angela spoke.

"So, Natalie," she said, setting down her can of soda. She rested her elbows on her knees, leaning towards the fiery haired teenager.

"Tell me everythin' about you."

Natalie blinked, mildly taken back by the teenager's brash, unexpected request of her.

She blinked, her lips slightly parted in surprise. Angela clearly wasn't one to mince words, that had been evident from the moment they met.

Natalie was briefly lost for words, unable to think.

"Well, uh…" The red haired teenager moistened her bottom lip thoughtfully before turning back to Angela.

"Well, my grandpa was Mighty Mick, but you know that, and, uh, my granny was about… twenty years younger than he was, and they had my mother when she was forty and he was sixty, somethin' like that, I don't know all the details. My mama had me when she was eighteen, but, but my father never stuck around, really. He hit the road when I turned one, and he ain't never looked back," Natalie rambled, suddenly breathless from her rant.

"And, uh, my mother… she, y'know, died when I was three-" Natalie pushed past the lump beginning to form within her throat, averting her gaze away from Angela.

"So, y'know, my granny and grandpa raised me. Grandpa treated me like one of his own. Everybody'd rag on him for it, no one thought of Mighty Mick Goldmill as the lovin' type, but… he was my grandpa. And, y'know, I loved him a lot. But…"

This was were shit got rough for Natalie. Sure, she could push past her mother's death like it was nothin', but when it came to her grandfather packing up and leaving…

"He left. I was maybe five or six, again, I don't remember all the details, when he up and left to move in with the Italian Stallion," Natalie continued, jerking her thumb towards the direction of the house behind them.

"And… I was alone. Sure, I had my granny, but she wasn't exactly about the whole knitting and baking cookies thing," Natalie continued, giving Angela a half hearted, toneless laugh.

More like the pimp out your granddaughter and beat up on her when you're drunk kind of thing.

"So, y'know how it is. I grew up, went to school, and pretty much lived off the radar 'til now. Livin' with a world class legend gets you a lot of attention, believe me," Natalie said, intentionally leaving out the filthier parts of her life story.

Angela moistened her bottom lip, her gaze drifting over Natalie not unlike it had when they had first left.

"Sounds like you've lived an interestin' life, Natalie Goldmill," Angela said after a moment, slowly nodding her head. Her eyes shone with emotions that Natalie could not pinpoint before she scooted closer to Natalie, her hand eventually finding a place on Natalie's leg.

Electricity danced across Natalie's skin, a sharp contrast to the ice cold air.

Their eyes locked. Green to blue, blue to green.

Robert threw open the door, practically tearing it off its hinges. "Come on, you guys, the countdown's starting!" the teenager shouted, quickly darting back in to the house as fast as he came out.

Oh, God. Natalie steeled herself. This was it.

"10!"

The delirious, intoxicated yells of the party goers echoed throughout the empty South Philadelphia streets.

"9!"

Nine seconds. Nine seconds to make a fucking decision, Natalie.

"8!"

Eight seconds. Eight seconds until their lips would meet, or eight seconds until Angela would walk away from her and her fairytale fantasy dream would be crushed.

"7!"

Seven seconds. Angela. Angela was all Natalie could think about. Long, dark hair. Piercing green eyes. Jawline that could cut glass. The most beautiful girl in all of Philadelphia.

"6!"

Natalie's heart raced. This was it. This was it, make it or break it.

"5!"

"4!"

"3!"

"2!"

"1!"

…..

Natalie's mind went blank. A surge of courage, a surge of lust, pulsated through her veins. Before she could stop herself, she leaned forward, took Angela's face in her hands, and kissed her square on the mouth.

Angela tasted of cherry soda and spearmint. Natalie had never tasted anything better, anything. Her hands tangled themselves in Angela's beautiful brunette locks, pulling the teenager even closer.

It was a kiss full of passion. Of love. Of hopes, promises, and dreams.

It was a beautiful, beautiful kiss.

When they finally pulled away from each other, both panting heavily, flushed in the face, and sporting red tinged, kiss bruised lips, it was far past midnight.

Which meant.. far past their ethereal, perfect moment.

Angela smirked. "Natalie Goldmill, I like you," she said matter of factly. "Come and find me sometime."

Angela got up, brushed herself off, and walked away.

Natalie sat there for a moment, perfectly still and silent.

"Please don't let that be the last time I kiss you," Natalie whispered, staring at Angela's figure until she walked out of sight, into the empty void of the South Philly streets.


	4. Chapter 4

**JANUARY 2ND, 1992, 8:02 AM**

"I'm so damn tired, you got no idea," Robert groaned, groggily rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"Yeah, why we gotta go back to school the day after New Years? Don't make sense," Jewel mumbled in reply, resting her chin against Robert's denim clad shoulder.

"Yeah, fat load of crap," Natalie muttered, hoping she was doing a good enough job of convincing the young couple that she gave a damn and a half.

"Uh-huh, I bet Chickie's behind this somehow," Robert scoffed incredulously, pulling in Jewel a little closer at the mere mention of the brash redhead.

Robert had always hated Chickie, right from the very beginning. Whether it was punching him cold in the mouth or leading him down a dark path that he nearly didn't return from, Chickie had never failed to be a problem for Robert.

Then again, Robert _did_ steal Chickie's 'Chickette', or at least that was how Chickie saw things. He knew how to hold a grudge, that little… man- _puttana_.

'I broke it off 'cause I didn't like him, if he don't like that, too bad,' Jewel had told Robert when they first met, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Jewel had been different then. Sure, she was spunky, a big, bright ball of energy that Robert just couldn't ignore. But, things had changed since they first met. She'd grown into a woman, really- a far cry from the round faced, rosy cheeked thirteen year old she was when Robert first met her.

"Yeah, uh-huh, whatever, Chickie's dumb," Natalie muttered absentmindedly, craning her neck as her eyes scanned the hallway for a particular brunette- one with gorgeous green eyes and a joyful smile.

Angela.

God, Natalie missed her, and it had only been a day. When she had woken up that morning, the taste of Angela danced across her tongue.

 _Cherries,_ Natalie thought to herself, a ghost of a smile appearing on her lips.

"Hey, Natalie, you okay? You're lookin' thousands of miles away," Robert said, lightly nudging the inattentive ginger beside him.

"Huh? Yeah, just tired," Natalie mumbled, still not bothering to spare Robert a glance.

Robert inquisitively arched an eyebrow. "Lookin' for someone?" the teenager drawled, giving Natalie another insistent nudge.

He paused.

"Angela, maybe?"

Natalie's heart lurched at the mention of the green-eyed beauty. She had spent the entire day yesterday thinking of Angela; not only of their kiss, but how beautiful she was. Inside and out.

She was just...so _perfect._ It was hard to explain, really. It was like God had put every good thing in a jar, shaken it up some, and out came Angela.

Robert's voice brought Natalie crashing back down to reality.

"I mean, you left together, so I was just askin'," the teenager continued, letting out an awkward chuckle.

Natalie pressed her lips together tightly, unease beginning to brew within her chest. Did Robert know anything? Shit, he had to know _something_ if he was bringing it up to Natalie.

Her heart lurched again as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Yeah, we just went to get sodas, is all," Natalie muttered, purposefully avoiding Robert's gaze. If she looked him in the eye, he'd know that every word she uttered was bullshit.

"Oh, that's cool. She's a nice girl, that Angela," Robert said, pretending not to notice how unwilling Natalie was to talk.

Robert didn't necessarily blame her for not wanting to talk. He had seen how Natalie looked at Angela, and vice versa. He had his suspicions, of course, he had them since he moved to South Philly again. Christ, the girl practically had the word 'dyke' written across her forehead.

Natalie cleared her throat, tightening her grip around the straps of her backpack. The awkward tension in the air grew thicker and thicker as the moments passed by, until Natalie couldn't stand it.

"Hey, I better get to class," the ginger muttered, suddenly tearing away from Robert and Jewel.

As the ginger left the couple to themselves, she felt a sudden sharp tug on the sleeve of her jacket.

Natalie spun around on her heel, anger marring her features. _God,_ she was up to _here_ with Chickie's bullshit-

The ginger stopped dead in her tracks.

Angela (a.k.a most certainly not Chickie) stood in front of Natalie, smiling softly as she clasped her hands in front of her.

"Hi," the brunette gently whispered, tucking a lock of chocolate brown hair behind her ear. Angela's face was flushed a bright pink from the relentlessly harsh South Philly cold, and a thick scarf was pulled up to her chin. A winter hat was tugged down to her ears, leaving her beautiful features barely visible.

Still, as far as Natalie was concerned, Angela was the most gorgeous girl in all of Philadelphia.

"Oh, uh, hi, Angela," Natalie stammered out after a prolonged silence. "How you doin'?" the ginger asked, making a weak attempt at nonchalance as she shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans.

"I'm fine," Angela said in reply, reaching up to tighten her grip around the straps of her backpack. Her gaze drifted over Natalie's frame, causing chills of adrenaline to run up and down the ginger's spine.

As quickly as the moment came, it was gone, leaving Natalie to wonder if the way Angela was looking at her was all her imagination. The ginger's heart raced with both intrigue and anticipation, unsure of what was to happen next.

Angela tilted her head to the side, giving Natalie a smirk as if nothing had ever happened. "Walk me to class?" she casually offered, holding out her arm for Natalie.

Natalie was stunned silent, lips moving but words stubbornly refusing to leave them. It was stupid of her, she knew, stupid of her to be left breathless every time Angela spoke to her, or looked at her, or did anything at all.

"Hey, you okay?" Angela asked, gently touching Natalie on the arm to get the ginger's attention. Her brow was furrowed as she nudged at the redhead.

Electricity danced across Natalie's skin at the sudden physical contact. She snapped out of her daze with an overly eager nod and a bright grin, saying "Sure, I'll walk you," a little too loudly.

Angela shrugged nonchalantly, linking her arm with Natalie's. "Alright," the brunette murmured as the duo began to walk.

The silence between the two teenagers was practically deafening. Natalie yearned to say something, anything, just as she had the night of New Year's Eve. All she wanted was to fill the silence, to throw caution to the wind and just… say something.

Angela spoke first, _thank God,_ the words leaving without effort from her red tinted lips. "So, how was your new years?" the brunette asked, smiling as she spoke.

"Good, good. Boring," Natalie blurted out quickly, immediately pressing her lips together tightly. Natalie's eyes darted to Angela, giving her counterpart a tight smile, opting out of saying anything more.

 _Fuck._ She was _totally_ going to embarrass herself. This whole 'stop-caring-and-say-whatever' thing was not going to work for her.

"Oh, that's good." Angela's honeyed, high pitched voice made tingles run across Natalie's pale, freckled skin. God, everything about her was just so _pretty._

"I mean, sure, yeah," Angela scoffed as she continued, not seeming to notice how entranced Natalie was by her. The brunette shrugged her shoulders.

"The first few seconds were pretty damn good, don't get me wrong," Angela said, lowering her voice down to a gentle yet sultry whisper that made Natalie furiously blush.

"But it all kinda, y'know-" Angela clicked her tongue, slanting her hand to the side, "It all kinda went downhill from there," the teenager said, letting out an endearing chuckle.

Natalie let out a breath, trying to ignore the heat blossoming in her chest.

"Yeah, same here. Just spent all day doin' nothin'," Natalie said, her mouth twisting into an awkward smile as she pretended her pulse wasn't racing at the speed of the light.

Well, technically, 'doin' nothin'," was only partially true. Natalie had stared at the ceiling all day, eyes wide open, lips moving but words not leaving them. Thoughts of Angela spun around in her mind, regardless of how hard Natalie tried to get rid of them.

Which, truthfully, wasn't that hard.

"The best kind of days, am I right?" Angela replied with a grin, playfully nudging Natalie in the side again.

"Yeah," Natalie replied, letting out a feeble chuckle in response. The increasingly awkward tension in the air seemed nearly cloying for the young ginger, and she was very nearly relieved when Angela abruptly stopped walking.

"Well, this is my stop," the brunette said, her hand closing around the metal knob of the door that led to the classroom.

Natalie soberly nodded, her heart in her stomach as the realization that Angela was going to leave sank in.

God, she hadn't even left yet, and Natalie was already missing her like hell. The word 'pathetic' came to mind, immediately followed by the words 'dammit, Goldmill, get it together before she files a restraining order against you.'

Natalie must have looked as sad as she felt, because before the ginger knew it, Angela was slowly and tenderly running a finger across Natalie's jawline.

"Hey, I'll be back soon," Angela murmured, giving Natalie that soft, sweet smile that made her melt like a stick of butter in a hot pan, or ice cream on a summer day, or some stupid poetic bullshit that Robert would probably like.

Angela smirked. "See you later, Natalie Goldmill," the brunette drawled.

Natalie blinked, moistening her bottom lip. God, her name had _never_ sounded better.

"I'll see you later, too, Angela…" Natalie's voice slowly trailed off as she realized that she had absolutely no clue what the brunette's last name was.

Natalie's brow furrowed as she felt the painfully hot blush of embarrassment begin to stir in her chest.

 _Goldmill, when you fall in love with a girl, you oughta know her goddamn name,_ Natalie thought, internally scolding herself.

Thankfully, the ginger didn't have to feel like South Philly's biggest idiot for more than a couple seconds.

"Moretti. Angela Maria Christina Lucia Moretti," Angela said with a smile, nodding her head.

Natalie blinked, unsure of what to say in response. 'Woah, that's a lotta names?' 'Hey, I'll remember that next time?' 'Were your parents on meth when they named you?'

"I know, that's a lotta names," Angela said before Natalie could get a word out, playfully rolling her eyes.

Natalie let out another feeble chuckle. "Guess your parents went all out, huh?" the ginger said, teetering back and forth on her heels.

Angela shrugged. "Yeah, you could say that," the brunette replied with another smirk.

Moistening her bottom lip, the dark haired teenager gave Natalie one last long look, the same one she had earlier.

Tingles ran up and down Natalie's spine as she let out a tremulous breath. The way Angela had looked at her wasn't her imagination this time. It couldn't be.

A feeling that Natalie still couldn't recognize began to brew within her chest as Angela waved goodbye, closing the door behind her and leaving the ginger to be with her own thoughts.

Behind the closed door, Angela took a quick look around the classroom to make sure it was empty.

Thankfully, it was. Always being early had its perks, sometimes.

Letting out a tremulous breath of her own, the brunette slid down to the floor. Her back was pressed against the door to the classroom. Angela tangled her hands in her hair, squeezing her eyes shut.

 _Fuck._ She couldn't keep up this 'ultra cool girl' image for much longer.

Angela could hide the butterflies Natalie made her feel. She could hide the nervousness she felt, she could pretend the blue-eyed ginger didn't consume her every thought.

Angela could act so suave, and blasé, and act like she didn't have a single worry in the world, but she couldn't ignore the undeniable truth that had been haunting her since Natalie's eyes first met with hers:

She was falling in love.

 **3:07 PM**

"Baby, I'm going to miss you so much," Robert whispered between kisses with Jewel, pulling the petite blonde even closer.

"Yeah, me too," Jewel muttered, her fluorescent pink lipstick beginning to smear across both her and Robert's faces.

Natalie tried not to gag at the face eating session before her, clamping her hand around her mouth and furrowing her brow. Jesus, was _that_ what she looked like when she kissed Angela? She hoped to Jesus (despite being a Jew) that she didn't.

"I love you," Robert said, his hands slowly sliding down Jewel's waist. The blonde let out a giggle, pulling in the dark haired teenager even closer.

Natalie rolled her eyes, crossing her arms around her chest as she let out a deep sigh. The ginger had seen the two of them sucking face before, of course, but having a front row seat to it was a whole 'nother experience that she certainly didn't ask for.

"Kids, am I right?"

Natalie flinched, turning to the source of the sudden voice.

Angela stood next to her, her arms nonchalantly crossed in front of her chest. She teetered back on forth on her heels in silence before shooting Natalie a grin.

Natalie looked down, letting out a laugh. The feeling she had earlier in the day returned, making her all…

She couldn't even describe it, truth be told. Natalie knew that she liked Angela, the brunette had consumed her every thought since they first met, but she had _never_ felt like this before, and-

"Hey, we're done," Robert said, fervently wiping Jewel's lipstick off his chin. He raised his eyebrows at the brunette and the ginger, asking the two girls, "Ready to go?"

Natalie furrowed her brow, confusion apparent on her features. "Are we walkin' Angela home?" she asked, excitement beginning to bubble up within her chest.

Angela furrowed her brow as well, spinning around on her heel to face Robert.

"You didn't tell her?" the brunette said accusingly, making the dark haired teenager flinch.

Robert shook his head raising up his hands in defense against the teenager's words. "No, I, I didn't think it- it was important," the Italian stammered, letting out a nervous chuckle.

"Shit," Angela sighed, rolling her eyes as she turned to face Natalie again. "I do everything around here," she mumbled.

Angela slid an easy smile onto her face, as if she wasn't spitting venom at Robert moments earlier.

"You're probably wondering what we're talkin' about, right?" Angela said, her smile now seeming a little sheepish. She teetered back and forth on her heels.

Natalie let out an awkward chuckle before she nodded. Christ, were they going on some sort of secret mission? _Count me out,_ Natalie thought to herself.

"You know the pet store on Front street, right?" Angela casually asked as the trio began to walk.

Natalie nodded, hanging on to the brunette's every word.

"Good, good. My mom, Gloria- uh, she was at the party the other day, she owns the store, and, uh-" Angela clicked her tongue, pointing her finger towards Robert, "His mom works there. We go over there sometimes, after school, I mean, to help out and stuff," the brunette awkwardly explained.

Natalie soberly nodded again. "Yeah, cool," she deadpanned.

"They been friends for a while, my mom and Adrian. My mom was the maid of honor at her weddin' with ol' Rockhead-" Angela abruptly paused, shooting a glance at Robert.

"Sorry, Robert," the brunette muttered. Robert shrugged in response before Angela spoke again.

"Yeah, they're good friends. You'll like it there," Angela said, letting out a small chuckle as the trio turned the corner.

"Yeah, Ang, you only like it 'cause you flirt with every cute broad that comes in the store, you dyke," Robert drawled, throwing his arm around the brunette.

Natalie's heart lurched at the mention of the slur. She grimaced, turning away from the duo before they could see her reaction.

"Enough with all the 'dyke this, dyke that', man. What, you got a fetish or somethin'?" Angela shot back, poison dripping from her words.

"Do I got a what? No, leave that to my Uncle Paulie. Ang, I ain't said nothin' bad to you," Robert said defensively, letting out a nervous chuckle.

"Yeah, except call me a dyke. Now shut up."

"Oh, come on, Ang. It's a term of endearment. You get to call me stupid, I get to call you a dyke," Robert said, sounding as condescending as humanly possible as he tried to justify himself to Angela.

When that didn't work, the dark-haired teenage boy leaned back and poked hard at Natalie's shoulder. "Hey, what do you think?"

Natalie furrowed her brow, playing dumb as she tried to ignore the uncomfortable, burning feeling in her chest.

"What do I think about what?" Natalie deadpanned, already knowing exactly what Robert meant.

"Me callin' her a dyke, her callin' me stupid. It's a fair trade, Natalie, don't you think?" Robert said.

Natalie bit back a few choice words of her own as she shook her head. "No, I don't think so," the ginger muttered.

Robert shrugged nonchalantly at the ginger's response. "Still think it's a fair trade," the dark-haired teenager mumbled to himself.

Natalie felt Angela's firm yet gentle grip on her arm, pulling her closer in. The ginger's heart skipped a beat, then two, as adrenaline coursed through her veins at Angela's touch.

"Sorry 'bout that. He can be real dumb, I don't even know how Jewel puts up with him," Angela scoffed, rolling her eyes as the duo crossed the street. Robert trailed closely behind them, muttering to himself about something or the other.

"Yeah, Jewel's real nice, though," Natalie said, giving Angela a bright smile.

"Oh, yeah, she is. She is. Hey, you know how they first got together?" Angela asked, her voice lowering to a smooth whisper as her eyes briefly darted behind her.

"Yeah," Natalie replied, moistening her bottom lip as she looked inquisitively at Angela. She couldn't help but wonder what the brunette was going to tell her.

"Robert stole Jewel from Chickie, or Jewel left Chickie for Robert, right?" Natalie asked as she arched a single eyebrow.

"Yeah, exactly, and Chickie never really got over it," Angela confirmed, pursing her lips together as she shrugged her shoulders in a nonchalant gesture.

"The guy's been doggin' Robert ever since. Beat him up, stole his lunch money, tried to get him into some _real_ bad stuff," Angela quickly explained, drawing out the 'real' to emphasize her point. "Drugs, or somethin' like that. Hell, I don't even know," the brunette said with another shrug, one hand on Natalie's shoulder and one hand wrapped around the strap of her backpack.

"Just last month, Chickie came up behind Jewel and smacked her ass so hard that it left a bruise. Robert got so mad that his eyes went all black, and I had to hold him back from punchin' Chickie right in the mouth," Angela said, shuddering as she recalled the memory.

Natalie nodded, letting out a deep sigh as she clicked her tongue. "That Chickie's no angel, that's for certain," the redhead said as she shook her head.

"Hey, you know what I call him? A disgrace to gingers everywhere," Natalie joked, lightly nudging Angela in the side.

She silently hoped the joke would elicit a laugh out of Angela, or at the very least, a chuckle. Thankfully, it did. Angela loudly laughed, clamping a hand over her mouth as she threw her head back. Natalie couldn't help but grin, those now all too familiar chills of adrenaline running up and down her spine.

God, she wanted to kiss Angela so bad. So, so bad.

"You're real funny, you know that?" Angela said, briefly winking at her ginger counterpart. Natalie blushed once again, turning away from the brunette so she wouldn't see.

The butterflies swirling around within Natalie's stomach threatened to spill out from her lips and form themselves into words if the ginger opened her mouth. Natalie pressed her lips tightly together, choosing to look down at the filthy, stained concrete under her feet.

"Oh, here we are," Angela suddenly said, gesturing at a large sign that said 'J&M TROPICAL FISH' in dark lettering. She opened the door to the pet shop, Natalie and Robert following closely behind.

"Ma?" Angela called out, her hand falling away from Natalie's arm to remove her coat and backpack. She furrowed her brow as she looked around the store, craning her neck to see in the back.

"Yeah?" a woman called out in reply, making her way to the front of the store. A headband was stretched across her forehead, holding back an unruly mane of brown hair. She was the same plain faced woman at the party, and apparently, Angela's mother.

Shit. Angela must have gotten all her looks from her father, because-

"Natalie, come meet my mother, Gloria," Angela said, gently taking Natalie by the elbow again.

The redhead forced a smile onto her face, awkwardly sticking out her hand for the older brunette to shake. God, she hated shit like this.

"Hi, nice to meet you, Mrs. Moretti. I'm Natalie," the ginger said, fitting her hand into Gloria's.

Gloria tilted her head to the side. She raised her eyebrows, making the lines in her forehead seem significantly more prominent.

"Natalie Goldmill?" the older woman asked, a hopeful yet wary edge to her voice.

Natalie slowly nodded, a tired smile beginning to form on her face. She knew all too well what was to come next.

"Oh, you're Mighty Mick's granddaughter?"

Natalie closed her eyes, forcing a smile onto her face as she nodded again. If she had a nickel for every time someone asked her that, she'd be lounging on a beach in Miami right now.

Gloria thoughtfully nodded, turning to her daughter as she abruptly furrowed her brow. "Why didn't you tell me, Ang?" the older woman asked with a scoff, shaking her head condescendingly.

Angela briefly glanced toward Natalie, almost as if she were asking what to do next. The ginger averted her gaze, unsure of what to do either.

The teenage brunette languidly shrugged, muttering something about how she didn't think it mattered either way.

Gloria scoffed again, jerking her thumb towards Natalie. "I got the granddaughter of a South Philly legend in my store, and you're tellin' me it don't matter? What are you, stupid?" the older woman shouted incredulously, almost as if Angela had told her something absolutely unbelievable.

Natalie clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. She hated seeing Angela get yelled at. She felt protectiveness stir within her chest, and before she could stop herself, she opened her mouth to speak.

"She's right, Mrs. Moretti, it ain't too big a deal," Natalie said, her words clipped and short. She smoothed over her anger laced words with an award winning smile, clasping her hands in front of her.

Gloria's eyes widened as she raised her hands in the air in defeat. "Alright, alright," she said.

"I-" the unruly haired woman paused momentarily, craning her neck so she could see Robert.

"Robert, what's the word for, uh, when you stop talkin'? Like, like, when you give up? Starts with a D?" Gloria asked, furrowing her brow in confusion.

Robert stood stock still in the background, forgotten and silent. He blinked hard, moistening his bottom lip before he spoke.

"Oh, uh, digress," the dark haired teenager said, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket.

Gloria's hands fell back to her sides as she briskly nodded. "What he said," the middle aged woman grumbled before heading back to the store.

The silence between the three teenagers hung thick in the air, painfully awkward and nearly cloying until Angela spoke.

"So, Natalie, that was my mother," Angela said slowly, carefully enunciating every word. She let out something between a scoff and a laugh before tightly pressing her lips together and averting her gaze. Her eyes seemed glossy and a little darker than usual.

Natalie briskly nodded in reply. "Yeah, I got that much," she muttered.

Angela let out a deep, cleansing breath, her mouth twisting into an uneasy smile as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Natalie couldn't help but feel bad. She didn't know why, since she hadn't necessarily done anything wrong.

But...still. Angela had gotten yelled at because of her. Natalie bit her lip, guilt painfully bubbling up within her chest.

"So, uh, we oughta go in the back," Robert said, slinging his backpack over his denim clad shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess," Natalie muttered in reply.

"I think my mom's back there, anyway," Robert said, turning back to the teenage duo and giving them both a tight, restrained smile before walking off.

Natalie looked at Angela, who was staring blankly off into space. Her eyes, usually full of light, energy, and joy, were empty, dark, and slightly wet from the tears beginning to form.

The ginger tentatively reached up, her hand gently taking place on Angela's shoulder.

Angela smiled at the soft touch, the brunette's gaze drifting over Natalie's thin, lanky frame before she suddenly broke herself away from her ginger counterpart.

"Uh, we should probably get to work," Angela mumbled, her eyes refusing to meet Natalie's as she shoved her hands in her pockets.

Natalie's heart plummeted, confusion apparent on her features as she moistened her bottom lip. The redhead briefly wondered if she had done something wrong, unease brewing within her chest as her breathing quickened.

"Can you, um, pick that up, please?" Angela deadpanned, gesturing at the box behind Natalie.

Natalie swallowed past the lump in her throat that hadn't been there moments before and nodded, bending over to pick up the box. The redhead winced at the sharp pain coursing through her wrist, a harsh reminder of when she had cut herself at the New Year's party.

The ginger tightly pressed her lips together, letting out a tremulous breath. Natalie didn't even know why she cut in the first place, to be frank. She didn't know if it was a release, or because she felt she deserved it, or some sick, twisted hobby that she only dabbled in every so often.

She did know one thing for certain. The first time Natalie cut was the day she first became a prostitute.

 **DECEMBER 27TH, 1989, 10:59 PM**

Natalie sat in the bath, an aching, burning pain brewing within her stomach and a God-awful headache that rendered her barely able to breath. The sickening feeling of self hatred coursed through her veins, eating away at her until she grabbed the razor blade on the edge of the bath, cut her wrist open, and watched blankly as the crimson liquid turned the water beneath her orange.

The redhead was barely thirteen, but her innocence had long been stolen away from her since the day her mother died.

Heroin overdose.

In the bathroom of her father's gym.

Alone.

Natalie had some idea of how terrible and cruel the world could be, but she didn't truly understand until now. Until she was flat backing for some fifty year old guy that reeked of beer and sweat and called her by the name of 'Lily.'

Whoever that was.

Led Zeppelin was blaring in the background, barely masking the sound of the man's animalistic, revolting grunts. The man pawed at Natalie's chest, burying his face in the pillow next to her as he suddenly began to sob. Natalie's stomach seized up in agony, silently praying it would be over soon as tears squeezed themselves out of her eyes.

She made herself to look up at the ceiling as the man's hips forced themselves against hers, bound to leave bruises later. _Go to your happy place,_ the fiery haired girl thought, repeating the words within her mind until they became her mantra.

 _Think about your third birthday with Mommy and Granny and Grandpa, think about all the pretty balloons, think about the cake, the frosting was blue, your favorite color, you got it from the bakery down the street, think about smearing cake on Mommy's face, think about her laughing and scooping you up and kissing you all over, don't think about her dead body slumped against the wall of Grandpa's gym-_

 **4:01 PM**

"Hey, Natalie, you okay? You were spacing out," Robert said, waving his hand in front of Natalie's face to get the ginger's attention.

The redhead flinched, briskly nodding her head as she snapped back to reality hard enough to make her bones rattle.

"Yeah," she lied, the non-truth rolling off Natalie's tongue so easily that it scared her.

Robert grimaced before walking away from the ginger, clearly not believing her. He let out a loud sigh before leaving her be, almost as if he were trying to get her to feel guilty enough to tell him what was wrong.

Natalie shrugged, letting out a loud sigh of her own.

It was going to be a long day.

 **8:47 PM**

"Natalie, Miss Gloria and I are headin' out now, okay? Robert too," Adrian called out from the doorway of the pet store, Gloria hot on her heels.

The dark haired, dark eyed woman's cardigan made her look like some sort of shapeless gray blob. Natalie winced. She was no fashion expert, but she'd bummed enough Cosmopolitan from Jewel to know that was one daggone ugly sweater.

"If you and Ang wanna stay here a little longer, that's okay, I'll swing by the gym and tell Rocky to walk you two girls home, alright?" Adrian said, her arms akimbo as her purse hung off her wrist.

Natalie nodded, opening her mouth to speak before she felt someone beside her.

Angela.

"Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Balboa," Angela said in that syrupy sweet South Philly drawl that Natalie loved so dearly.

"We'll be good," the brunette said, turning to Natalie with a bright smile plastered across her delicate, ethereal features. She arched an eyebrow, making Natalie's heart skip a beat.

"Right?"

Natalie quickly nodded, one simple word enough to make adrenaline pulsate through her veins, enough to make her heart race, enough to make her feel all lightheaded and blushy and… well, kinda hot.

Adrian smiled, clueless to the seemingly obvious teenage flirtation before her. "Okay, see you two girls soon. Get home safe," the older brunette said.

Robert and Gloria waved goodbye as Adrian closed and locked the door behind her, the trio walking off into the empty void of the South Philly streets.

Natalie let out a tremulous breath that she didn't know she'd been holding in, looking up at Angela for… shit, she didn't even know what.

Angela looked at her expectantly, giving the ginger a gentle, soft smile.

"So, uh…" Natalie began, silently hoping that she wouldn't make a complete idiot out of herself.

Well, then again, that was a given. She was Natalie A. Goldmill, after all. She had a reputation to uphold as the biggest idiot in all of South Philly.

"What do, um, your parents think? About you bein' gay?" the ginger said, leaning against the counter of the pet store as she tried (and failed miserably) to appear casual.

Angela shrugged nonchalantly, hopping up onto the other side of the counter. "It ain't a big deal to 'em, really. My mom and I still hate each other," the brunette drawled, letting out a nervous chuckle.

Natalie laughed, tucking a stray lock of red hair behind her ear as she crossed her ankles. "Yeah, I get that," she murmured, glancing down at her scuffed up sneakers.

"They just tell me the same thing they tell my big brother, Anthony. Find a nice Italian girl to settle down with," Angela said, smirking as she rolled her eyes. She slid off from her place at the counter, taking slow, deliberate steps toward Natalie.

There it was. That immediately recognizable rush of adrenaline that Natalie had become all too familiar with since her eyes first met with Angela's.

"But...maybe I like the nice Jewish girls instead," Angela whispered, getting closer and closer until she was mere inches away from Natalie.

Natalie arched an eyebrow, giving Angela a smirk of her own. "Who said I was nice?"

And with that, Angela's lips crashed into Natalie's.

Hands tangled with hair. Tongues explored mouths, hearts skipped beats. Bodies pressed themselves together, making both of the teenagers silently beg one another for more. More touching, more holding, more kissing like both of their lives depended on it.

Angela no longer tasted of cherries and mint, just as she had when Natalie first kissed her. It wasn't New Year's Day, and they weren't outside in the cold midnight air.

But they were kissing again.

And that was good enough for Natalie.

Angela's hand was just beginning to finagle its way under Natalie's sweater before the two girls heard a knock on the door of the pet shop, forcing the teenagers away from each other.

Natalie's lips stung and ached from the sudden loss of contact, making her draw in a sharp breath as Angela quickly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Rocky stood behind the other side of the door to the pet shop, a fedora placed tightly on his head. His leather jacket clung to his broad shoulders, making the tall Italian look like an everyday, over-the-hill tough guy instead of the boxing legend he really was.

Angela swung open the door, giving the dark haired man a tight smile. "I'll get my stuff," she deadpanned, heading over to the back of the store and leaving Natalie to make conversation with Rocky, or at least try.

Rocky extravagantly bowed, taking off his fedora and quickly placing it back on his head. Natalie let out a painfully fake chuckle, not finding the Italian's antics any more funny than she did when they first met.

"How you doin', Natalie?" Rocky said, shutting the door behind him before shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat. Rocky's cheeks were flushed a bright red, and his figure seemed a little more hunched over than usual.

Natalie shrugged in response, turning around and craning her neck towards the back. _When is Angela gonna get her ass back out here?_

"I'm okay, long day," the ginger muttered, giving the former boxer a tight smile before averting her gaze away from him again.

Rocky hadn't really done anything to Natalie, but he still made her uncomfortable. Maybe it was because he was a man, or maybe because her grandfather had trained him in the past and it was strange to think about, but the redhead didn't like Rocky, not one bit.

Well…that wasn't entirely true. Natalie did have a reason, an explanation as to why she disliked him so much.

Mickey had left Natalie for Rocky, for a better life. He traded old, greasy wife beaters for sharp, clean cut suits and a run-down, old, filthy apartment for his own mansion within a mansion. He left Natalie all alone in the world, with no one but her alcoholic, certified nutcase grandmother as company. Mickey checked out of the hard-knock, South Philly street life, and never looked back no matter how hard Natalie tugged on his sleeve and begged him not to go.

 _That_ was why she didn't like Rocky. The old hatred and rage had long since been gone, washed away by nine hour baths and bottles of whiskey stolen from Granny Evelyn, replaced by annoyance and well hidden eye rolls.

"Hey, Natalie, you ready?" Angela said, fiddling with her coat zipper as she gave her fiery haired counterpart a bright smile.

Natalie nodded vigorously, grabbing her own jacket off the nearby hook she placed it on. She flashed Angela a quick smile, a silent acknowledgement of what had happened between them just mere moments before.

Rocky clapped his hands together, holding out the door for the two girls. "Hop on out, ladies," the tall Italian said, awkwardly chuckling as the teenagers walked out of the store.

The sudden rush of cold air made Natalie flinch, her eyes wide with surprise. She turned to Angela, who smirked and let out a small chuckle.

"Cold, huh?" the brunette said teasingly, lightly nudging the ginger in the side.

Natalie laughed in response, shoving her hands in the pockets of her jeans as she walked alongside Angela.

God, she couldn't believe they kissed again. It felt like magic, really, like electricity replaced the very air she breathed.

It wasn't much like the first kiss, Natalie had to admit. The first one felt so new, so unfamiliar.

But…this kiss.

This one felt like home. Familiar, soft, and warm.

Even if Angela did have Natalie pressed up against the wall with her hand up her shirt.

Natalie let out a small chuckle that went unnoticed by both Angela and Rocky. She moistened her bottom lip again, tugging her winter hat even further over her head of red hair. The freezing night air made Natalie's freckled skin sting and ache simultaneously, causing the redhead to pitifully wince.

Angela gently nudged the ginger in the side. The brunette arched an eyebrow, her lips firmly pressed together in a thin, straight line.

"You alright?" the dark haired teenager asked, her tone soft and sweet and soothing, a sharp contrast from the unforgiving, angry tone she had used with Robert earlier in the day.

Natalie nodded, a ghost of a smile playing upon her kiss-bruised lips.

The redhead couldn't help but wonder. Was she the only person Angela was sweet on?

Huh. That would be kinda wacky. Being the only person someone liked. Especially someone like Angela, who just...radiated sunshine and rainbows everywhere she went.

Natalie slowly shook her head. God, she was just being dumb.

However, Natalie assumed she was likely the only person Angela had made out with in the middle of her mother's pet store. But, then again, that was just a coin toss.

The two teenagers said nothing else to one another for the rest of the walk, the harsh 'click-clack' of Rocky's shoes echoing throughout the empty streets.

The trio stopped in front of a large brick building with boarded up wood in the place of windows. Angela let out a deep sigh, spinning around on her heel to face Natalie.

"Guess I'm leavin'," the teenager muttered, rolling her eyes as she shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

Natalie's heart plummeted down to her stomach in disappointment, just as it had earlier that morning when Angela had left for class. God, no matter how much time she spent with the brunette, it just didn't feel like enough. The redhead always wanted something more.

Natalie swallowed the pain bubbling up within her throat, moistening her bottom lip. "See you Monday, then," the redhead said, an easy smile forming its way across her face.

Yeah. She'd see her Monday.

With one last beautiful smile that lit up Natalie's world, Angela closed the door with a wordless goodbye.


	5. Chapter 5

_"Daddy, can you take Natalie for a little bit, please? I'm goin' out," Jennifer said, holding her daughter in her arms. Natalie fidgeted with the toy her mother had given her earlier, blissfully unaware of the situation at hand._

 _Mickey arched a bushy gray eyebrow. "Where?"_

 _The man was instantly wary of his daughter and with good reason. She'd been on and off heroin for nearly three years now. Jennifer had first gotten into the drug when she'd met this...stupid Italian kid. Jimmy Anello was his name. He'd just moved to Philadelphia from New York with his family, traded Times Square for Front street. Mick's daughter had met him in history class, and they'd known each other for maybe twenty minutes before Jimmy offered Jennifer heroin._

 _An offer which she accepted._

 _Repeatedly._

 _Yeah, sure, Jimmy had turned Mickey's precious little girl into a washed-up junkie, but he was still Natalie's father, and Mickey had to have an ounce of respect for him for that. And a damn good father, too, when he was still around._

 _Jimmy left a year after Natalie was born, taking Jennifer's heart with him. She was never really the same afterward. Yes, she loved her daughter dearly, and yes, she still blared rock music and got into fistfights and read feminist poetry that she couldn't understand and made endless dirty jokes, but she wasn't as carefree, no longer a big bright ball of energy that burned like the sun._

 _Heroin. That's what happened to Jenny. She was a junkie. A rail-thin junkie that could barely remember her own name most days. A good for nothing, scum of the earth, pathetic junkie. It 9saddened Mickey to say it or even think about it, but that was the way it was. There wasn't much he could do to change it anymore._

 _Jennifer rolled her eyes, hoisting Natalie further up on her hip. "Dunno, just...out, " the indignant redhead said in reply._

 _Mickey slowly shook his head. "You don't tell me, and you ain't goin', " the gray-haired man said in his signature gravelly tone, carefully enunciating every word he spoke._

 _Jennifer gave another eye roll, letting out a loud, aggravated sigh. "Daddy, come on. I'm goin' stir crazy in here, " the ginger complained, plopping herself down in one of the chairs of the living room._

 _Jennifer turned to her father with pleading blue eyes. "Why don't you trust me?"_

 _Mickey shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "You ain't given me a reason so far." The painful lump in the older man's throat grew larger._

 _Jennifer's eyes, a beautiful ocean blue, welled up with tears. The young woman moistened her bottom lip, her tears falling on the denim knees of her bell-bottoms._

 _"I just wanna be a kid, Dad. Please just let me see my friends," Jennifer pleaded, pitifully knitting her brow. Natalie continued to babble mindlessly, bringing her toy to her mouth to chew on it._

 _Jennifer let out a small chuckle, wiping the tears away from her eyes. The air in the room seemed to become lighter like there was a big ol' blanket of tension that had now been lifted off and tossed in the dirty laundry basket._

 _"Nat, come on, you're gonna mess up your teeth before they start growin' in," the ginger said with a laugh. The bittersweetness of the moment was not lost on Jennifer, nor Mickey._

 _The sound of his daughter's laughter was enough to make Mickey relent. The white-haired man let out a deep sigh, throwing his hands in the air in defeat._

 _"Alright, Jen, go out and do your thing, but you better get your ass back here at 6:00 o'clock sharp. And I ain't foolin' around here, miss lady," Mickey said sternly, jabbing his finger in Jennifer's direction. His gaze was cold and steely, sharp and unforgiving and borderline menacing._

 _And for a moment, and only a moment, Mickey Goldmill was the same Mickey Goldmill he was fifty years ago. A twenty-something boxer that had a bone to pick with every fucker that looked at him wrong._

 _"Thanks, Pop. You're the best, and then some," Jennifer said, a jovial grin brightening up her freckled features. She handed over her daughter, practically bouncing out the door without a second thought._

 _Mickey sighed, looking down at his granddaughter. "Guess it's just you and me for now, Miss Natalie."_

 _Jennifer closed the apartment door behind her, the grin she had sported just moments ago sliding off her face. Her hands, jittery and pale, were shoved deep into the pockets of her coat. Her arms, hidden under thick sleeves, were dotted with track marks, scabs, and bruises. The redhead quickly walked out of the building, taking slow, even breaths._

 _Jennifer had lied to Mickey, of course. She did it all the time. The ginger hadn't had a fix in four goddamn months since Mickey and Evelyn shipped her off to some bull jive rehab center in Jersey, all on Rocky's dime._

 _The redhead had just gotten back last week. Four months in a rehab center hadn't done jack squat for her. Everyone there was a certified nutcase. Some girls would drink hand sanitizer just to get a buzz, and others would scream and convulse in withdrawal at night._

 _Jennifer was never that bad. Yes, she'd been getting high on the regular since she was sixteen, and yes, she did drugs when she was pregnant (and tried to justify it by saying she stopped when she found out) but it never got out of control. It never got so bad that she couldn't handle it._

 _Or at least that was what she so desperately tried to tell herself._

 _Jennifer turned the corner, her heart suddenly stopping as she saw who was running towards her._

 _Rocky._

 _Oh, boy. Time to bust out her acting chops and pretend she didn't want to sock the guy in the face._

 _"Hi, there, Jenny, " Rocky drawled, landing a few playful punches on the redhead's coat clad shoulder._

 _"How you doin'? Good?" the Italian said, completely oblivious to Jennifer's annoyance and dislike of him. Either that, or he didn't care._

 _"I'm okay, Rock," Natalie said, forcing a tight smile on her face. "How 'bout you? How's Adrian and the baby?" the redhead asked, half actually caring, half pretending to._

 _"Oh, I'm good, I'm excellent. Adrian, she's doin' okay, and the baby's fine. He's talkin' now, sayin' all sorts of crazy stuff. Tellin' me and Adrian these stories. How's Nellie though?" Rocky rambled enthusiastically, jogging backward alongside the aggravated redhead._

 _Jennifer grit her teeth. "It's Natalie," she replied, opting to stare straight ahead instead of looking Rocky in the eye._

 _If she looked him in the eye, he'd know exactly what was going on._

 _"Right, right. So how's she doin'?" Rocky asked, landing another playful punch on Jennifer's shoulder._

 _The redhead winced._

 _"She's okay. Walkin' and talkin' and chewing on stuff," Jennifer muttered, still avoiding Rocky's gaze. Hopefully, the boxer would get the hint and fuck off somewhere else._

 _"Well, anyhow. I gotta get back on my run, but it's always nice seein' you, Jenny," Rocky said, clapping the ginger on the shoulder before jogging off to wherever, not bothering to wait for Jennifer's response._

 _Jennifer breathed a long, slow sigh of relief. She could already feel the euphoria pumping through her veins, reality slipping out of her fingers as the world washed away._

 _God, she missed heroin. She missed it so bad._

 _Jennifer snapped out of her daze, sharply turning the corner. The redhead stood in front of a tiny house desperately in need of a paint job (a shack, really) that had become all too familiar for her over the years._

 _Jennifer withdrew her hand from her coat pocket, sharply rapping on the door. She was just about to knock again before it swung open._

 _Spider Rico, a tall Puerto Rican man with dark eyes and a sinister smile stood in the doorway, arms akimbo. He waggled his eyebrows._

 _"Hiya there, Jenny. My favorite customer. How you doin'?_ "

"Bye, Dad, we'll see you later," Robert said before making his way through the entrance of the school, which was really just a chain link fence with a huge hole in the middle.

Rocky grabbed his son's hand, giving it a kiss before the dark haired teenager could recoil. Robert made a face and pulled away, letting out an angry scoff.

"Dad, quit it," the dark haired teenager snarled. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets before storming off, leaving Natalie and Rocky to themselves.

Natalie grimaced. Clearly, there was something going on between the two, not that she knew much in the first place. She swallowed, quickly looking away before Robert turned around and caught her staring at him.

"Bye, Rocky," Natalie said with a small, tight-lipped smile, hunching over to make her way through the pathetic excuse for an entrance.

"Yeah, bye, you two," Rocky replied, letting out a deep sigh as he slowly, almost tentatively took a few steps away from the two teenagers.

Natalie spun on her heel to face the statuesque Italian, feeling a sharp pang in her chest at what she saw.

Rocky's shoulders were slumped, his frame seeming smaller and weaker than normal. His languid brown eyes were averted, but Natalie could see tears welling up in them.

Natalie looked away before she could start crying herself, her gut twisting painfully as she stared straight ahead.

The ginger had always wondered what it would be like to have a father. Hers had left about a month after her first birthday, moved back to New York after making her mother a junkie and a whore.

Natalie knew nothing about him. No names, no nothin'. She'd asked her grandmother about him, and she never got any answers.

There were photos, of course. They were in a photo album that Natalie had brought with her to the Balboas, a photo album that Natalie hadn't looked at since she was four years old and had just gotten back from her grandfather's funeral and wanted something to hold on to, so she stared at each and every photo she had of him until she curled up next to her sobbing grandmother and asked if Grandpa was in Heaven with Mommy, and she was told, no, Mommy was in hell.

Natalie squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

God, she hated him so much.

But she missed him even more.

 _Jenny looked down at the small card Spider was holding out for her. There was a tiny mountain of powder on it, light brown in color._

 _Heroin. Smack, skag, whatever you want to call it. It didn't matter to Jenny._

 _The redhead's mouth salivated as she bent down, snorting nearly every last bit of the powder in one go._

 _Spider whistled in approval, his fist thumping against the table next to him. He was just about to withdraw the card from Jenny before the ginger grabbed it._

 _"Wait, there's more," she muttered, her tongue licking off the rest of the deadly substance in one long, ardent stroke._

 _Spider whistled again, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Damn, mamí, what else that tongue do?" the man drawled._

 _"It don't do you," Jenny sneered, her upper lip curled into an angry snarl._

 _Spider scoffed, his hand pressed to his chest in mock offense. The Puerto Rican shook his head._

 _"Well, I gotta say- youse the classiest addict I've met so far if you don't suck it for H," Spider said, leaning back on his elbows and crossing his ankles._

 _Jennifer barely registered the words spewing out from the Puerto Rican's mouth. The redhead lay on the floor, her eyes resting at half-mast as euphoria pulsated through her veins._

 _"I missed this," the redhead whispered through dry, cracked lips, letting reality wash away into nothingness._

 _Spider shrugged. "Well, shit," the man mumbled, pouring the remainder of the brown powder on his hand and snorting it off._

 _"Oh...that's good…" Spider drawled, slumping down to the floor._

 _The duo were silent for another five minutes before Jennifer broke the silence._

 _"So...Spider…give me the skinny from the neighborhood," the ginger whispered, her eyes fixated on the ceiling as dots of color danced in front of her vision._

 _"Little Marie's trickin'," Spider mumbled after a while, his palms pressed against the filthy, grimey carpet on the floor._

 _"Ain't she only fourteen?" Jennifer murmured in reply._

 _"Uh-huh. Real sad. Saw her all dolled-up over on Broad Street, holdin' a cigarette and wearin' these real tall heels."_

 _Jennifer's stomach turned. Shit, she might have been high as a kite, but the thought of a kid selling their body was just enough to make her ill. High or not._

 _"I don't want Natalie to do that," the redhead whispered, nausea turning her insides to acid as she rolled over on her stomach._

 _Tears pricked at the corners of Jenny's baby blue eyes._

 _"I don't want her to do that. I don't want her to be no addict like me, or turn tricks, or do anythin' bad…" the redhead whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as tears rolled down her cheeks._

 _"Don't worry. She won't. She'll be okay," Spider mumbled._

 _Jennifer shook her head, guilt consuming every fiber of her being instead of euphoria._

"Can youse guys please, for the love of God, take it down a notch?"

Robert and Jewel had commenced their face eating once again, much to Natalie's dismay. They looked like a pair of primates in a National Geographic special, not that there was much of a difference between horny teenagers and horny gorillas.

Robert and Jewel gave no response to Natalie's begging. The ginger rolled her eyes at their silence, getting up from her seat on the couch and making her way upstairs.

"Robert and Jewel gettin' it on downstairs?"

Natalie flinched at the sudden voice, pressing her hand to her chest and letting out a gasp.

A stout, balding man wearing a stained wife beater and clutching a half empty bottle of bourbon sat in front of the T.V, staring intently at Natalie.

 _What's his name? Peter, Pablo, Penis- oh, Paulie! That's it._

"Hi, Paulie. Uh, I mean, they're makin' out down there, if that's what you mean," Natalie stammered out, an awkward chuckle passing through her lips. The mere sight of Paulie sent a chill down her spine, made her heart race.

No, it didn't seem like he had recognized her. But then again, he _was_ in a drunken stupor, and-

"Rocko! You got yourself a little Casanova," Paulie called, letting out a self-satisfied belly laugh that made Natalie cringe.

Christ, what was this guy's obsession with his nephew's hypothetical sex life?

"Oh, Paulie, shut it," Rocky mumbled, walking downstairs and into the living room with a loud sigh. He plopped down on the couch behind Paulie, giving Natalie an exhausted smile.

Natalie averted her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She knew she was being rude to him, maybe even being a bitch, but… it wasn't like he hadn't done anything to deserve it.

"You know, Angela's comin' over soon," Rocky said, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Natalie's pulse shot up at the mention of Angela. She moistened her bottom lip, mind already drifting away to thoughts of the green eyed brunette.

Natalie was snapped out of her daze by a sharp knock on the door. Her pulse shot up again, adrenaline whooshing through her veins at the sudden noise.

 _She's here, Goldmill, she's here! Time to get some sweet, sweet lady lovin'. Or at least try._

Rocky shot up from his seat on the couch, muttering something along the lines of 'oh, shit, they're here,' before walking to the door in long, purposeful strides and swinging it open.

"Hey, ol' Rockhead," Gloria mumbled, flanked by a tall boy with a mop of dark hair and eyes just like Angela's.

 _Ah, must be the aforementioned brother,_ Natalie silently mused, craning her neck in hopes of seeing his hella-fine sister. _If she ain't showin' up, I'll strangle her. And not in the hot way I thought about earlier._

"Where's Angela?" Natalie blurted out before she could stop herself, her heart slowly beginning to sink as the moments passed. Was Angela...not coming?

Angela's presumably-brother perked up at the mention of his sister, running a hand through his brown curls and kicking off his scuffed-up sneakers.

"Oh, uh, she's- she's at the corner store," he mumbled out after a minute, tossing his winter coat to the side. He looked...wary of Natalie, almost afraid of the ginger.

Natalie couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow. Was she really that scary?

The boy blinked hard, his mouth moving but words refusing to leave them.

"She...said she got a hankering for cherry soda," the boy explained, letting out a small, uneasy chuckle as he walked over to Natalie.

Natalie's pulse shot up again at the words 'cherry soda.' Surely, _surely,_ this kid didn't know, didn't have any clue-

The boy stuck his hand out.

"I'm Anthony, by the way."

Natalie smirked, fitting her hand in his.

"I'm Natalie," the redhead deadpanned, the words rolling off her tongue with ease.

Anthony briskly nodded, fervently enough for Natalie to hear his brain rattle in his skull.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Angela's been tellin' me all about you," the dark haired teenager said in reply, his voice having the same smooth, honeyed drawl that Angela's did.

Natalie quirked an eyebrow, her heart already beginning to race. "Oh?"

Anthony looked behind him, then behind Natalie, craning his neck before he spoke again.

"Listen, I ain't gonna do the whole protective big brother thing," the teenage boy said, his voice lowering down to a hushed whisper as he took Natalie by the arm.

"But Angela really likes you. So don't fuck this up," Anthony hissed, his grip on Natalie's arm tightening a little harder than Natalie would've liked.

Despite the fact that she was being threatened by a teenage boy that looked suspiciously like Balki Bartokomous, Natalie couldn't help but grin. Yeah, sure, just a few days ago, Angela's tongue was jammed down her throat, and yeah, she'd said 'Natalie Goldmill, I like you,' but that could've just been platonic for all Natalie knew, and-

"Got it?"

Anthony's voice cut through the air like a knife.

Natalie briskly nodded, just as Anthony had earlier as he loosened his grip.

Anthony gave the redhead a curt nod. "Good."

The older boy shot a look behind him as he let go of Natalie's arm.

"By the way, you'd look real cute together," he whispered, a bright grin lighting up his features as he walked away.

Shit. And Natalie thought she was in for a regular Monday.

The redhead swung open the door leading down to the basement, hopping down the stairs two at a time. She plopped down on the couch next to the two hormonal teenagers (or hormonal gorillas, she couldn't tell at this point) and waited for Angela to get her fine self over here.

Thankfully, she didn't have to wait for too long.

Although, when you're stuck in a basement with two hormonal teenagers (or hormonal gorillas), every second seems like an eternity.

Angela came bounding down the stairs, one hand skimming the staircase railing, one hand clutched around a plastic bag. Her cheeks were flushed bright pink from the cold, but she still sported that same devilish grin that made Natalie's word spin and stop all at the same damn time.

"Hi."

The word was simple, nonchalant. If Natalie wasn't a complete and utter lesbian disaster, she wouldn't have given much thought to it.

However, Natalie _was_ a complete and utter lesbian disaster, and so, she reacted accordingly.

"H-hi, Angela," the ginger stammered out, a small, sheepish smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her heart raced underneath her sweater, beating a painfully quick yet oddly steady rhythm in her chest as the moments passed.

"How you doin'?" Angela drawled, plopping down on the couch next to Natalie and extending a can of cherry soda to the redhead.

"Better now that you're here," Natalie said in reply, taking the can of soda and popping it open.

Angela furrowed her brow at the scene unfolding in front of her, a.k.a Robert and Jewel, a.k.a two hormonal gorillas that somehow found themselves in a South Philly basement eating each other's faces.

'Robert and Jewel?' Angela mouthed, scrunching her nose up in disgust as she pointed at the teenagers.

Natalie soberly nodded, shrugging her shoulders in a 'what can you do?' gesture.

Angela shot the redhead a coy look before picking up the TV remote, turning off the dumb Christmas movie that had been blaring in the background for the better half of an hour.

"Hey, I was watchin' that, Ang," Robert complained, disentangling himself from Jewel and propping himself up against the couch.

Angela's expression went sour.

"Robert, please. You were dry humping with dollar store Cyndi Lauper over there," the brunette hissed as she gestured towards Jewel.

Jewel rubbed at her already smeared lipstick. "I was kinda goin' for a Madonna look, Ang," the blonde muttered in reply.

"Didn't do a good job," was Angela's response.

And despite her affections for Jewel, Natalie couldn't help but grin.

 _"So, how much you got?"_

 _"Huh?"_

 _Spider frowned, his open palm still outstretched and expectant._

 _"How much you got, Jen? For the H?"_

 _Jennifer's mouth went dry._

 _Fuck, she hadn't even thought about payment in the first place. Didn't even cross her mind. She'd showed up at Spider's with nothing more than a serious craving and itchy wrists._

 _"I- I ain't got nothin'," was Jennifer's mumbled, barely audible reply. She stared at her scuffed up sneakers, fear brewing in the pit of her stomach. Spider didn't screw around when it came to his stuff, she knew that much._

 _"So you just thought you'd get it for free? Now, Jenny, you know you're my favorite customer, but that's some bull-"_

 _Spider shut up when Jenny sank down to her knees._

I'm sorry, Natalie, _Jennifer thought as she pawed at the man's zipper._ Mama let you down again.

"You're real pretty, you know that?"

Natalie's eyes widened. "What?"

"You heard me," Angela said, a smile tugging tugging at the corners of her red-painted mouth. She looked so innocent, almost as if she hadn't interrupted the peaceful silence the two had been sitting in for a good three hours.

Natalie blinked once, then twice, her heart threatening to burst out from her chest.

Oh, sweet Jesus. Was this really happening?

The redhead couldn't help but freeze when Angela reached up to her face and brushed away a stray lock of fiery red hair, letting her thumb trace against Natalie's jawline.

Robert and Jewel had long since gone upstairs, leaving Natalie and Angela to themselves. Natalie's heart had throbbed within her chest when Robert spun around and gave her a wink, almost as if he knew something she didn't.

"Uh...thank you," Natalie stammered out, adrenaline whooshing through her veins. _What's happening?_

"And your eyes. They're real pretty, Nat," Angela murmured, head tilted to the side and red painted lips slightly parted.

"So blue," the brunette whispered, so softly that Natalie wasn't sure anything was said at all.

The dryness in Natalie's mouth made it impossible for her to speak, and the pounding in her head made it impossible for her to form together a string of thoughts.

 _What's she doing?_

Angela studied her carefully for a moment, and every fiber of Natalie's being _burned_ underneath the brunette's intent gaze.

"Do you wanna go out with me, Natalie Goldmill?"

The words rolled off Angela's tongue with surprising ease, ease that Natalie couldn't even fathom having herself. The brunette tilted her head to the side, warm green eyes full of uncertainty and inquisition.

Sbe was so suave, really. So gentle and soft and sugary sweet and just _perfect_ in every way possible.

And Natalie was just some half-wit dyke who couldn't tell her ass from her elbow.

She wasn't good enough for Angela. Nowhere near good enough.

So, of course, the logical conclusion would be to say 'no,' to say 'no, I ain't good enough for you, find someone else.'

But Natalie Goldmill had never been too big on logic.

So, of course, she said yes.

 _"What do I gotta do, Jenny? What do I gotta do to make you change?"_

 _"Nothin'! You can't do nothin' to make me change, 'cause I can't change. I can't change, Dad," Jenny sobbed, glasses fogged up and blue eyes red rimmed from tears._

 _She'd screwed up again. She'd screwed up again, and this was bigger than the rest of all her screw ups. This was the biggest screw up by far, and that was sayin' somethin'._

 _"So, what? Tell me, what do you want me to do?" Mickey screamed, jabbing a calloused, yellow-nailed finger in Jennifer's direction. The walls of his throat were raw and bloodied from yelling, his lungs burning with every breath._

 _"I don't know what I want you to do! I don't know, Daddy, I don't know," Jenny pleaded, launching herself into Mickey's arms. She knew there was no hope of salvation, no way to change Mickey's mind, no way to make it all okay again._

 _But she could try._

 _"No," Mickey deadpanned, his voice dry of emotion._

 _Jennifer slowly pulled away, nausea coiling tight inside of her._

 _Mickey shook his head. "No," he repeated, slowly, ever so slowly, pointing towards the door._

 _"Get out, Jennifer."_

 _Nothing more was said._

"You know, there's a real nice little place right by school," Angela drawled, those big green eyes looking a little more...greenish.

"They got coffee and stuff," Angela continued in response to Natalie's dumbstruck silence.

"Oh yeah, totally, that sounds good, real good," Natalie said a little too enthusiastically, vehemently nodding her head. _Come on, stupid, play it cool._

"I mean, I'll never pass up an opportunity for caffeine, y'know?"

Angela grinned, the sight making Natalie's heart skip a beat.

"Guess that's one thing we have in common," the brunette said with a shrug. Before Natalie could reply with another whip-smart, quirky remark, Angela leaned in and kissed her soundly on the mouth.

It took a good two minutes for Natalie to kiss her back.

Okay, well, maybe a little less, but still- it took a while.

Natalie brought her hands up to Angela's face, gently pressing her lips against the brunette's. There was something soft and hazy and warm in the way Angela was kissing her, almost exactly like the first time.

But, like, not as freezing cold. Or dramatic.

But Angela tasted like cherries this time.

And that was enough for Natalie.

"Yo, Angela!"

The two teenagers pulled away from one another at the sudden yell. Natalie frantically looked around, blue eyes wide and fearful, heart racing in her throat.

 _Is Robert in the fuckin' basement?_

Thankfully, the little bastard was nowhere to be found.

"Your family's leavin'," the brown haired teenager called from upstairs. "Wouldn't want 'em to leave you behind, eh?"

Angela rolled those gorgeous green eyes of hers as she brushed imaginary dust off her jeans. Natalie's heart plummeted in disappointment when the brunette got up off the couch.

"That's my cue, Natalie," Angela muttered, leaning down and kissing the crown of Natalie's forehead.

A smile tugged at the corners of Natalie's mouth as the brunette headed towards the stairwell, her blue eyes widening in the best kind of disbelief.

"Hey, uh, Ang?"

Angela turned around, hand gripping the stair rail.

Natalie furrowed her brow, moistening her bottom lip.

"Why'd you ask me out?"

There it was. That same beautiful grin that lit up Natalie's world.

"You really think I'd kiss a girl twice and not ask her out?"

Natalie stared, mouth dry and eyes still wide.

"Also, I think you're cute."

And just like that, Angela was gone.

Natalie got up from her seat on the couch, walking over to the large duffel bag where the majority of her belongings were.

Shirts, jeans, momentos, socks, yada yada…

Oh! There it was. The infamous Drew Barrymore poster.

Natalie gave a grin of her own. "Drew, baby, I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be needing you anymore."

Natalie zipped the duffel bag shut, spun around, and gave a triumphant fist pump to challenge all other triumphant fist pumps.


	6. Chapter 6

Natalie stood underneath the showerhead, eyes closed and lips parted as freezing cold water doused every inch of her.

She didn't look at herself. Couldn't, really, even if she wanted to.

Her own body disgusted herself, to be quite frank. After years of being used as nothing more of a tool, and even more years of being beaten by Granny Dearest, those dumb self esteem tips found in the back of Cosmo magazines didn't do much for her no more.

Natalie was still covered in bruises from her grandmother's last beating, purple and blue and green and yellow and gray. It was strange, really, to have all those reminders of someone who was no longer alive.

And if Natalie pressed hard enough, she still felt a jolt of pain course up her spine. Eerily similar to her grandmother's touch.

But that didn't matter anymore.

What mattered now was that Natalie A. Goldmill was going to get some fine ass lady lovin' tonight, and couldn't nobody stop her. Not even the ghost of her grandmother.

Natalie stepped out of the shower, grabbing the towel she put to the side and wrapping it around herself.

"I'm exhausted," the ginger muttered to herself despite downing three mugs of black coffee like her life depended on it. After all, 'there's no such thing as too much caffeine' _was_ her life motto.

Or it would be if she had one.

Natalie's heart leaped into her chest as she heard the doorknob turn, and a scream scraped the walls of her throat as Robert Balboa, Jr. himself walked straight into the bathroom.

"What the fuck, man? Get the fuck outta here!" Natalie screamed, desperately trying to cover herself with the towel. Robert let out something between a gasp and a yell before stumbling over his own feet in an effort to leave, a symphony of apologies and 'gosh-darn-its' leaving his lips.

"And close the fucking door, you fucking- _fuck!"_

Robert immediately obeyed, shutting the door behind him just as Rocky crawled out of whatever hole he had slept in for the night.

"Woah, woah! What's goin' on?" the older man shouted.

Natalie sighed in aggravation, embarrassment burning hot in her chest as she heard Robert rant and rave for a solid thirty seconds about what he had just seen, and how horrified he was, and how sorry he was, and on and on and on.

"Might as well get dressed," the redhead muttered to herself, picking up her clothing off the bathroom floor. This wasn't going to get any better if she just sat there, that was for certain-

Natalie stopped dead in her tracks.

"She was all bruised up, Dad," Robert whispered. "I think someone's hurtin' her. Or someone was."

The ginger's hands shook uncontrollably at every word Robert spoke, nausea brewing in the pit of her stomach.

They were going to know. They were going to find out. They were going to know everything, they were going to know her granny beat the shit out of her, they were going to know she was a _whore-_

A light knock on the door forced Natalie out of her daze.

"Natalie, sweetheart?" Adrian called through the wooden barrier.

Natalie swallowed the bile burning in the back of her throat before speaking, her heart beating so fast that she couldn't feel it anymore.

"Yes, Mrs. Balboa?"

"Once you get dressed, can we talk for a moment? I-I just want to make sure you're alright," Adrian stammered, concern laced through each of her words.

The ball of nausea in Natalie's stomach tightened.

"Sure," Natalie croaked out, hopefully loud enough for Adrian to hear as she pulled her jeans up to her hips. A surprisingly difficult task given how horribly her hands were shaking.

"Breathe, Goldmill," Natalie quietly hissed as her trembling hand closed around the freezing cold metal of the doorknob.

After a good, solid minute of contemplating the best way to escape in the shortest amount of time, the redhead decided to face the music and walked right out of the bathroom door.

There wasn't much else she could do, after all.

Natalie's gaze drifted up to meet with Rocky's, barely making eye contact before muttering something along the lines of, 'Yo, where's Adrian?'

"Uh, just, just, y'know, over there," Rocky mumbled in reply, gesturing vaguely at a closed door.

Natalie nodded before walking down the hall, heart pounding in her chest with every step.

Adrian swung open the door before Natalie could even knock, silently ushering the ginger inside with gentle hands and watchful eyes.

"Mrs. Balboa, I'm really sorry-"

The brunette held up a finger to silence the teenager.

"You don't need to be sorry, Natalie. It's alright," Adrian said, wiping her palms against the front of her nightgown.

"I just want to know if Robert was telling the truth," the older woman muttered, taking a single step forward towards Natalie.

"Can I see?"

Natalie nodded.

"Okay, sweetheart," Adrian said quietly, gesturing upwards with her hands.

"Take off your shirt, please, Natalie."

God, if Natalie had a dollar for every time she heard that…

Well, more like five dollars, but that was beside the point.

Natalie turned around and obliged, painfully aware of her lack of choice in the situation. Nothing she wasn't used to by now.

Fear and guilt simmered low in Natalie's bruise speckled stomach as the white cotton hit the floor with a quiet thump. She covered her chest with shaking hands and scarred knuckles as she turned around to face Adrian once again.

The brunette took in a sharp, tremulous breath. Natalie could've sworn she felt those brown eyes burning into her, dissecting every inch of her soul.

"Who did this to you, Natalie? Somebody at school?" Adrian said, so quietly that Natalie thought it was her imagination at first.

Natalie shook her head, lip drawn between her teeth.

"Who then?"

"Uh…"

Natalie hunched forward, hands tucked underneath her arms.

Here it was. Moment of truth.

She couldn't explain it away, make up a little white lie about walking into a door or falling down.

She had to tell Adrian the truth.

 _Do it, Goldmill. Rip the band-aid off._

Heat rushed up to Natalie's chest, fear singing her insides before she finally opened her mouth to speak.

"It was, uh…"

The words were stuck in Natalie's throat, a burning lump of aching heat that simply wouldn't budge.

 _Say it. Say it. It was your granny who abused you, your granny who made you this way._

"Honey," Adrian cooed, taking a step closer. "It's alright, just tell me."

But it wasn't alright. And she _couldn't_ just tell her.

But she had to.

"My granny," Natalie said quickly, the words hot and fiery and scalding on the way up from her chest. She wasn't even sure that she'd said anything at all until Adrian's warm brown eyes widen to the size of saucers.

"Your grandma, Natalie?"

The redhead nodded.

She knew this would happen. Adrian not believing her, that is.

Now all Natalie had to do was wait to be kicked out of the house. To be ridiculed and screamed at and made to sleep outside in the cold.

1...2...3…

"Natalie, I need you to know that won't happen to you again. Not as long as you're here," Adrian said, her hands falling listlessly by her sides. Her eyes were moist with the beginning of tears, and there was a certain hollowness in her face that made Natalie's gut twist.

Natalie slowly turned around, still teetering on the precipice of fear and relief as she slid her shirt back on her body.

"Really, sweetheart, I mean it. That's not going to happen to you here. Me and Rocky have never hit Robert," Adrian explained, hands firmly placed on her hips.

A shaky exhale passed through Natalie's lips as Adrian placed a warm hand on her shoulder.

"You're safe here, Natalie. I mean that," the brunette said before pulling the ginger into a hug, her cheek pressed against the side of Natalie's face.

And with that, Natalie came apart.

Human contact had never been easy for Natalie. After Grandpa- Mickey died, every touch she received was a blow to her skin, violent and angry and full of hate. Or, rather, rough hands and sweaty bodies pushing her down to a mattress, down to her knees.

Natalie's mind couldn't help but drift off to a childhood memory of hers as Adrian's grip on her tightened.

 _Natalie was curled up against her mother's chest, her tiny hands fisted in Jennifer's sweater as the two watched reruns of M*A*S*H. Jennifer laughed, popping a chip into her mouth every couple of minutes. She glanced down at Natalie, blue eyes identical to her own._

 _Jennifer's upper lip curled into a smirk. "Don't you think Hawkeye is so, so funny, Natalie?"_

 _Natalie nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth._

 _Jennifer chuckled, running a hand through Natalie's tuft of red curls. "Good, good. Me too," the mother murmured, gaze returning back to the TV screen._

 _"Me too, babe, me too."_

Adrian let go of Natalie after a few moments, hands rubbing up and down the redhead's shoulders.

"You can stay home from school today," the brunette said quietly, a sympathetic smile playing across her lips.

That sent a jolt up Natalie's spine. No, no, she was supposed to see Angela after school-

"Actually, Mrs. Balboa-"

"Adrian."

"Adrian, sorry. I meant to ask, can me and Angela hang out after school today? 'Cause she asked me the other day, so I thought I'd ask you-"

"Oh, Natalie, of course. That Angela's, well...an angel," the older woman said with a chuckle, slowly letting go of Natalie and walking over to the table near the bed.

 _Oh, Mrs. Balboa. If only you knew,_ Natalie thought.

"Need any money?" Adrian asked, already holding out a crisp ten dollar bill for the ginger.

"Uh, sure, yes," Natalie stammered, taking the cash in hand and tucking it in the pocket of her jeans.

Adrian paused for a moment, pursing her lips thoughtfully before opening her mouth to speak.

"You know, Natalie, I'm glad that you're making friends," the brunette said, placing a warm, comforting hand on Natalie's shoulder as the ginger opened the door.

Natalie's upper lip curled into a smile. Making a new friend was one way of putting it. "So am I," she said softly. "Thanks again."

Adrian nodded in acknowledgment before Natalie hurried downstairs, heart still racing an erratic rhythm in her chest.

Natalie stood in the schoolyard amongst a sea of students, hands shoved deep in the pockets of her jeans.

School had been pretty uneventful, as per the norm. Chickie had made another one of his thinly veiled sexual comments, but that and the burning hot feeling in Natalie's stomach wasn't anything new.

Angela had caught her eye earlier that day. Or rather, Natalie had caught Angela's eye. The brunette had beckoned her over during lunch, but she was sitting with her friends- a bunch of teenagers who looked like the polar opposites of the Sweathogs on Welcome Back, Kotter.

So, logically, Natalie decided to sit with a girl with a thousand yard stare and scraggly brown curls that she chewed on instead of the slop on their trays.

Je _sus._ Hope that girl figured some shit out.

But none of that mattered now. What mattered now was that Angela was walking towards her with a bright grin and brighter eyes, her hand already outstretched to take Natalie by the arm.

"Hey, Natalie Goldmill, how you doin'?" the brunette said, slinging an arm around the ginger's shoulders and pulling her along.

"I'm okay, Angela Maria Christina Lucia Moretti. Did I get that right?"

The grin on Angela's face grew even wider if that was even possible. The brunette reached a hand up and ruffled Natalie's hair, not that it was impeccably coiffed in the first place.

Natalie quirked an eyebrow, a small laugh passing through her lips. "Where you even takin' me in the first place, Ang?"

"Oh, y'know. Coffee shop. Good ol' caffeine," Angelia replied, her lips coming dangerously close to meeting Natalie's before she pulled away.

"Cool, nice," Natalie stammered out, adrenaline whooshing through her veins at the thought of pressing her mouth against Angela's. She couldn't now, of course, couldn't risk a baseball bat to the kneecaps from one of her fellow peers. Or anyone else, for that matter.

"Did'ya ask the Balboas if it was okay?"

Natalie nodded, tucking her lower lip between her teeth for a brief moment as she remembered that morning. Oh well, she got ten bucks out of it, so it wasn't _all_ bad.

"I asked if I could hang out with you, yeah, but I didn't use the word 'date' or nothin'," Natalie explained, an uneasy chuckle softening her words.

Angela thoughtfully nodded. "That's okay. You ain't gotta tell them if you don't want, you know," the brunette said after a moment, her voice soft and velvety smooth. _God, that voice._

"I mean, I was real scared about telling my parents. Real, real scared," the brunette laughed, her arm sliding down to Natalie's waist and pulling her close again.

"So, you know. Ain't no pressure."

"They ain't my parents," Natalie murmured, and the bite in her voice made bitterness pool on her tongue.

"No, I- I ain't sayin' they are," Angela stammered out, but Natalie was already started on her tangent before the brunette could explain herself.

"My mom died when I was four, and my father's been a goner since I was one. I ain't got parents, Ang. No offense and all," the ginger deadpanned with a shrug of her shoulders, her tongue probing the inside of her cheek. Things were the way they were, and slapping the 'mommy and daddy' label on people she barely knew wasn't going to change that.

Angela paused for a moment, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth.

"Sorry, Natalie," she murmured, her green eyes just a little wider than normal. She averted her gaze, the grip of her arm around Natalie's waist beginning to loosen.

Natalie instantly felt a pang of guilt in her chest, too strong to ignore. A pang of panic, too, if she'd fucked this up, she'd never forgive herself-

"Nah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, y'know, bug out on you, Ang," the ginger hurriedly said, coughing out an uneasy laugh.

"That's okay," Angela said with a shake of her head, giving Natalie that same bright smile she had only moments before.

"I mean, it must be real hard. Not havin' no parents," the brunette quickly added, her voice tinged with melancholy and something Natalie hated more than anything else- pity.

"Well, yeah, but I don't know any other way, so you get used to it eventually," Natalie deadpanned, forcing a smile to tug at the corners of her mouth. No, she didn't intend to make her feel bad, but…

"And Natalie, if you ever need to talk about it, I'm only a phone call away. Or three blocks away, dependin' on how much you wanna talk to me," Angela added, pulling the ginger even closer by the waist.

"You too, Ang," Natalie said, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth as she thought of what to do or say or next.

 _Should I ask to kiss her? Should I ask her a question? Should I talk about myself? Should I-_

"Oh, look, we're here," Angela said, steering Natalie through a door and into a building.

The smell of coffee along with something smoky yet sweet hit Natalie the second she walked in the door. She scrunched up her face, turning to Angela in confusion.

"Yo, what's that smell?"

"Oh, that's incense. Supposed to be calmin' or some shit," Angela muttered in reply.

Natalie quirked an eyebrow. "Incense? Ain't that when, like, brothers and sisters get married?"

Angela chuckled incredulously. "No, silly, that's incest. Incense is somethin' else, it's sticks you light to create like, an aroma or somethin', the brunette explained, tugging Natalie forward by the arm.

"C'mon, Natalie," the brunette murmured, a grin making her features seem significantly brighter.

"Okay, uh…."

"Hi, Allie. Two large coffees, one for me and one for the lady," Angela said, leaning forward on the scuffed up counter where a cashier stood on the other side.

The cashier (Allie, apparently) had huge blue eyes and a plethora of piercings. A septum ring, one on either side of her mouth, one in her bottom lip, in her eyebrows, in her cheeks….

Natalie winced. The bitch was airport security's worst nightmare.

"I see you, Ang. Hey, don't fuck it up this time," Allie murmured, quirking a metal adorned eyebrow at the brunette.

Angela quietly seethed as she reached into the pocket of her coat, retrieving a ten-dollar bill and sliding it onto the counter. "You gonna take my money, or not?"

"Oh, Ang, I got it," Natalie said, reaching around in her own pocket for the money Adrian gave her.

"No, don't be silly," the brunette said dismissively. "I'm Italian, we always wanna foot the bill."

A small smile played across Natalie's lips. Any situation where she didn't have to spend a dime was fine by her.

"Okay, Miss Thang, your bean juice beverages will be out shortly," Allie deadpanned, throwing Angela's change in the tip jar.

Angela cursed under her breath. "Ball-buster," the brunette muttered, taking Natalie by the arm again.

"She got a problem with you or somethin'?" Natalie asked as the two sat down at a table.

"Nah, it's just our thing, y'know?" Angela said, taking off her scarf and tossing it over her chair.

"She's a bitch to me, I'm a bitch back. Everybody's happy," the brunette continued as if it were the simplest thing in the world. A small smirk tugged at the side of her mouth.

Natalie squirmed in her chair, her gut tightening with ...unease? No. Well, not the bad kind anyway. The doin' somethin' new kind. The steppin' out your comfort zone kind.

And this was something new after all. Never ever had she done something like this, and frankly? Never ever thought she would.

Natalie had never given much thought to her future in the first place. Deemed it hopeless and bleak, non-existent. A small, sadistic part of her almost _wanted_ to go out in some sort of horrifically twisted, tragic way. Suicide, murder, AIDs. Maybe a drug overdose, like her mother.

A noose around her neck, a knife between her ribs, lesions on her skin. A needle in the bruised flesh of her arm and poison in her veins.

Her mother had been gone for twelve years now. No, almost thirteen. She had chosen heroin over Natalie, heroin over Grandpa and Bubbe, heroin over her father, wherever he was, and heroin over herself.

She had died all alone underneath the showers of Grandpa's gym.

And in all honesty, Natalie knew the bone-chilling, heart-stopping truth. Jennifer would still be an addict if she hadn't died. She'd have been just as nasty as Evelyn, all venomous words and spit and hands always ready to lay harm.

In a way, Natalie was grateful she was dead.

She had died with some semblance of good shining in her chest.

And that was more than Natalie could have ever asked for.

"Natalie? Natalie, you good? You good?"

Natalie snapped out of her daze, knees banging against the table and her heart already starting to pound an erratic rhythm.

"Uh, I- I guess? I mean, sorry, I-"

"I was just gettin' the coffees, and when I came back, you just- got this glazed over look on your face, and…"

Angela's voice slowly but surely trailed off as she sat in the chair across the ginger, gently interlocking their fingers.

"We ain't gotta talk about it if you don't want," the brunette said, handing the redhead her coffee.

Natalie nodded, the painful knot in her chest slowly beginning to loosen.

At least she had one person on her side. Wasn't that all that mattered?

"Thanks, Ang," she murmured, bringing to coffee to her mouth and taking a slow sip.

"You ain't gotta thank me, Natalie," Angela said incredulously, her brow furrowed and her lips slightly parted.

Natalie blinked. "Oh, uh, sorry-"

"You ain't gotta apologize, neither," Angela interrupted, brusquely shaking her head.

The awkwardness hung thick in the air.

The redhead shrugged. "I mean, okay. Not unless I kill someone, right?"

Angela laughed and nodded. "I think that's an awful good reason to be sorry."

The brunette furrowed her brow again. "Also, uh, how'd you know? That you was gay?"

Natalie's heart rate spiked; because of the caffeine, or because of the question, or because of Angela herself- she wasn't entirely sure.

But what she did know that she was about to horrifically embarrass herself.

"Well, uh, if you'd really like to know," Natalie said slowly, drumming her fingernails against the table.

Angela nodded. "Yeah, I would. If that's okay."

Natalie took a deep, cleansing breath before opening her mouth to speak.

"Phoebe Cates in Gremlin."

The brunette scoffed, waving her hand around.

"Oh, that ain't nothin'. Mine was She-Ra. You know? The cartoon girl with the sword," she said, leaning back in her chair and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah, she's hot, I can't blame you for that. Got a cartoon crush now?" Natalie quipped.

"No, but I'd let Kelly Taylor break my face in if she wanted."

The redhead quirked an eyebrow. "Who now what now?"

Angela feigned exasperation at Natalie's confusion. "90210?"

"Is that 'er number?"

The brunette pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Sure, Natalie, sure," she mumbled, a smile blooming at the edges of her words.

"How'd you tell your family?" the redhead said after a moment, bringing the coffee cup back to her lips as her eyes pointedly widened.

Angela pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, letting it pop back out a shade redder. She let out a deep, tremulous sigh, her eyes flitting up to Natalie's again before she opened her mouth to speak.

"Well, I just sat 'em down and told 'em, and like I said, it wasn't no big thing. Not with my brother, or my mom, or my dad. Matter of fact, my dad was just happy I wouldn't get pregnant," Angela said sardonically, a wry chuckle leaving the corner of her mouth.

"Do people know at school?" Natalie asked.

"Uh-huh. But I ain't never had trouble, if that's what you mean. Well, maybe a little, but nothin' too big," the brunette said after a moment, leaning back in her chair again.

Natalie quirked an eyebrow, words dancing on the tip of her tongue.

"Well, what kinda stuff?" she said, eyes wide with curiosity.

Truthfully, though, she wasn't sure if she even wanted to know.

Angela shook her head, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. "Don't wanna talk about it," she murmured under her breath.

Natalie's stomach dropped with a strange feeling of fear and shame, fear of what could happen if she did come out, and shame that she'd made Angela upset.

Fuck, she'd fucked up-

"No, it's okay, you didn't do nothin' wrong," Angela hurriedly said, holding a hand out in reassurance.

Shit, how was she able to do that? Read Natalie's mind like that? What was she, half-Italian, half-psychic?

"Really. It's not all bad, anyway. Being a dyke has perks, Natalie, I promise," the brunette added, taking the ginger's hand in her own.

The knot of tension in Natalie's chest loosened again, the heaviness weighing on her shoulders no longer present when her fingers entwined with Angela's.

Natalie grinned. Angela was right, being a dyke had perks after all.

"I'm real worried about her."

The words fell softly from Adrian's mouth, barely audible even to herself.

Rocky looked up from the newspaper, brown eyes full of understanding. As slow-witted as he was, he still immediately knew who Adrian was referring to.

And as far as he was concerned, his wife had every reason to be worried.

Natalie had been raised by a psychopath right under their noses, and they hadn't done jack-shit-squat about it. Rocky hadn't even seen the bruises himself, but the mere mention of them from Adrian was enough to make his mind run wild and delve into all those horrible possibilities.

Shit. What else had Evelyn done to her?

No. No, he couldn't think about that now.

The redhead had been through hell, he knew that much. Mother dead at three, father a goner at one, her grandfather dead at four (or five, Rocky had never been good at math.)

It was a miracle that she was still standing. Still walking around and breathing and able to function day to day.

And maybe it was all an act. Maybe she was on the verge or breaking, or already broken, and it was a matter of when and not if she would put a shotgun to her temple and pull the trigger.

And maybe a part of it was his fault.

Truth be told, Rocky didn't know what he was doing with her. She was another man's child after all, and it wasn't his place to tell her what to do. Wasn't his place to smooth her hair back and kiss her forehead when she had a bad dream, and it wasn't his place to check her homework.

Or maybe it was.

Like he said, he wasn't entirely sure.

He wasn't good at much in the first place. Knocking teeth out and busting noses was it. No special skills here, no sir, no ma'am no whatever.

So how the _fuck_ could he be a father to Natalie?

Rocky shook his head as if to rid himself of his thoughts.

"I know, Adri, me too. How's about we talk to her when she gets back?" the Italian said.

Adrian slowly nodded, casting her eyes down to her floor and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Well, that was bound to be the most uncomfortable conversation of her entire life.

"I'm tellin' ya, Ang, I don't think it's possible!"

"What do you mean, it ain't possible? It sure is!"

"Nonononono. There's no way that Cindy Crawford's a lesbian. That's wishful thinkin' at its finest."

"We don't dream, we die, eh?"

"Agreed, but Linda Evangelista is at least bisexual, I'm gonna call it."

The two teenagers had long since left the coffee shop, opting to walk around the cold South Philly streets and discuss the sexual orientations of various supermodels.

It was getting late, Natalie knew that much. The sky was dark with the exception of a few stars, and the redhead was pretty sure she'd heard a few drunken yells and police sirens.

Angela's upper lip curled into a gentle smile. "You have fun?"

Natalie nodded, warmth spreading throughout her chest. "You betcha. How about you?"

The brunette pointed to her face. "Does it look like I had fun?"

"Well, you're smilin', so I think so?" Natalie said in reply, feigning confusion as she raised her shoulders.

Angela chuckled, giving Natalie a playfully light punch to the shoulder. "Come on, let's get you home."

"Sounds like a swell idea," Natalie quipped, clicking her tongue and pulling Angela close by the arm.

The redhead, no matter how hard she tried, couldn't ignore the sinking in her chest. All good things had to come to an end eventually, but still- she hoped this night would be the exception.

Eventually, the duo stopped in front of the Balboa home- well, Natalie's home, too. Angela walked her up all the way to the front door, giving an extravagant bow which elicited a chuckle from Natalie.

Suddenly, the energy in the air changed. Natalie felt it, Angela felt it, hell, the elderly couple across the street probably felt it too.

"All I wanted to do today was kiss you," Angela began, her hands trembling by her sides.

Natalie's heart raced.

Angela swallowed, letting out a tremulous breath.

"So can I? Please?"

Natalie ran her tongue over her bottom lip, blue eyes shiny behind the lenses of her glasses.

"Yeah," she said, adrenaline singing every nerve.

Angela took Natalie's face in her hands and kissed her hard.

Natalie's eyes refused to close, and she certainly couldn't look away from Angela now.

Had she always been so beautiful?

Natalie stared at every freckle, every eyelash and every tiny blemish that made up Angela, the most beautiful girl she had ever known and the girl she was falling in love with. Her heart plummeted to her chest when the brunette finally pulled away, cheeks flushed red from either the cold or the adrenaline surely pumping through her veins.

"I'll see ya, okay? And- and here's my number, too," Angela stammered out, slipping Natalie a small piece of paper.

Natalie pocketed the number, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of her mouth. God, could this be anymore perfect? Was Jenny Jones gonna come out of the house and say it was all a prank or a social experiment of some sort?

"Thanks, Ang. I'll call ya, I promise," the redhead murmured, leaning in to give her more-than-a-friend a quick peck on the cheek.

Angela didn't have time to respond before Natalie stepped through the door and shut it behind her.

The ginger pressed her back against the wall, a smile slowly but surely spreading across her face.

God, she was happy. So, so, so incredibly, indescribably happy. The kind of happy you hear about in romance books, the kind of happy you see in wedding photos and old couples, the kind of happy you feel when you've just gotten home from a date with Angela Maria Christina Lucia Moretti.

Like Natalie had said, it was pretty indescribable.

"Natalie."

Adrian's voice was low and measured enough to send a jolt of fear down Natalie's spine. Lead pooled in the bottom of the redhead's stomach as she followed Adrian's voice into the kitchen.

The brunette sat at the kitchen table with both Rocky and Robert, hands clasped against the hard wood. Her eyes were full of something Natalie couldn't pinpoint, her expression solemn and serious.

Natalie had seen that look far too many times on the array of social workers that had come to her house countless times.

They're trained to look for things no one else could possibly notice, those people. Sharp corners, wide, watchful eyes, and strange stains on the carpet.

Yet they failed Natalie, each and every time. Granny Goldmill would slither her way out of punishment. She'd either make a joke, or a cultural reference, or bake a batch of cookies for Ms. So-and-So that charmed them right out of doing their jobs.

And she'd unleash on Natalie the second the door clicked shut.

But Granny Dearest wasn't there to charm Adrian now, and Natalie wasn't that girl no more.

There was nothing and no one to hide behind.

"Natalie, why don't you have a seat, sweetheart?" Adrian said softly, tapping the table lightly with her palm.

Knowing she didn't have a choice in the matter, Natalie stepped forward and sat in the chair.

Fuck.

Natalie's lower belly burned with fear. Felt like Marie's hands on her shoulders, felt like her back pressed against a mattress, felt like the burn of whiskey on her tongue.

They'd figured it out. They'd figured it out, that she was a dyke, a lady fag, they'd figured it out and now they were going to kick her out onto the streets and she was going to be homeless, and she was going to wake up to a knife between her ribs and she was going to die-

"Natalie, the last thing we want is for you to think we don't care about you," Adrian began, Rocky and Robert nodding their heads in agreement beside her.

"We just want to help you, you need to know that, don't you know that? That we care about you?"

Natalie stiffly nodded, her stomach churning with every word.

"Those bruises, Natalie, they, I- I can't have you thinking that's going to happen to you here. I can't stand it."

Adrian's voice was now thin and high pitched, nearly choked off. Natalie felt a drop in her chest, something odd between pity and disgust. The feeling increased tenfold when Adrian reached across the table and took Natalie's in her own. Her wedding ring shone bright underneath the fluorescent lightbulb.

"I know, Mrs. Balboa. Youse are good people, you and Mr. Balboa and Robert, I- I know that," Natalie stammered out, her heart still pounding with anticipation.

Adrian breathed out a heavy sigh, patting Natalie's hand with her own. She paused for a moment, clearly unsure of what to say, brown eyes slightly wet at the edges.

Rocky sighed, placing a hand on Adrian's shoulder. Whether it was to comfort her, or urge her to keep going, Natalie wasn't entirely sure, but…

"And we got rules in this house, don't get me wrong. We got plenty of 'em," Adrian said sternly, jabbing a finger from her free against the dining room table. Natalie couldn't help but flinch, and she couldn't help but immediately regret flinching in the first place.

Adrian's gaze softened, her brown eyes soft and hazy with perceived pity.

"And you haven't done anything yet, Natalie, sweetheart, but…"

Adrian paused again, running her tongue over her top lip before letting out an awkward chuckle.

"But I know who your mother was, and what she was, and I know she couldn't raise you-"

Natalie pulled away from Adrian like she had been burned, anger already beginning to brew in her chest.

"Don't talk about her. Don't talk about my mother," Natalie snarled, jumping up from the chair so quickly that it nearly fell to the floor. Her pulse pounded within her veins, her hands trembling vehemently by her sides.

Fuck. If there was one single way to piss Natalie off, it was to talk about her mother.

And that was never going to change.

Adrian's eyes went wide with shock, her hands immediately flying to her chest as she tried to stammer out an answer.

"Natalie, I, I'm sorry-"

"No," Natalie snarled, already heading for the door. Her hands shook uncontrollably, scarlet ebbing at the corners of her vision. She'd always been quick to anger, that was her problem- could never let it go, could never brush it off with a deep breath and a smile. She was much like her grandfather in that way, all fire and rage and venom.

"Natalie-"

The ginger resisted the urge to sock Adrian in the face before slamming the door behind her.

She'd done that before, of course.

She'd run away from her grandmother countless times, only to be herded back in by a bright eyed, chubby cheeked police officer that called her 'missy' and gave her peppermint candies, or a social worker with pursed lips and disapproving eyes, and even Marie on occasion with a cigarette between her fingers and a smarmy remark on her tongue.

But, again- Granny was dead, and there was no police officer or social worker or prostitute to lead her back home now.

And all those times she ran away, Natalie had no idea where to go.

But she knew now.

 _Angela._

She lived near the pet store, right? And that was over on Front street, so it wouldn't be that hard to find, and-

And there she was.

Sitting on her front porch, cherry soda in her hand and a magazine in the other. She didn't even notice Natalie at first, wasn't even aware the redhead was there until-

Natalie snatched the magazine out of Angela's grip and kissed her hard.

Angela made a noise of surprise before returning Natalie's kiss, cupping the ginger's face in her hands. The two eventually stood up after a moment, lips still locked as Angela fumbled with the doorknob.

"Where your parents at?" Natalie murmured in between kisses.

"At my aunt's," Angela said as the two stumbled into the house.

"And your brother?" Natalie's hand slid up Angela's shirt.

"He's- oh jeez- he's at my aunt's, too."

"My room's right here," Angela muttered breathlessly as the two teenagers crashed through a door and onto a bed.

"You done this before?" Natalie asked, straddling the brunette before tearing off her own shirt.

"Uh-huh," Angela whispered, her hand reaching up Natalie's waist. The ginger batted her away, her hands clamping down on the brunette's thighs.

"How 'bout you?"

The redhead said nothing in response. Whatever she said, it would be a lie.

Natalie ignored the voice in her head that screamed _what the hell are you doing_ as she unbuttoned Angela's jeans.

That voice had never done much for her anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

It was 5:39 in the morning.

Or at least, that's what it said on the bright red letters blinking in the dim light of Angela's room.

Natalie hadn't been able to sleep, of course. Maybe it was the bottomless pit in her stomach, or the heavy feeling in her chest, or the knowledge that she'd just done something terribly, horribly, unfathomably stupid.

Angela was asleep next to her, her clothing thrown off to the side. A sheet was pulled up to her chest, just like in the movies.

Natalie, by contrast, hadn't been able to sleep at all.

Not since….

"Mornin' Natalie Goldmill," Angela murmured, forcing Natalie out of her daze and slinging an arm over the redhead's hip.

"Hey, Ang," Natalie said in reply, a smile tugging awkwardly at the corner of her mouth.

Why'd she feel so horrible? Wasn't as if she'd done anything bad. Not like she'd stolen Angela's innocence, or her own. She'd done something teenagers did all the time, something that Robert and Jewel had probably done plenty of times.

(Ew. Didn't wanna think about that.)

"Hey, Nat, uh…"

Natalie turned to look at Angela, her breath caught in her throat.

"Want me to...y'know?" The brunette vaguely gestured at Natalie.

The ginger vehemently shook her head, bile already starting to pool on her tongue.

"No! I mean, no thanks. No thank you," Natalie stammered out, tossing away the covers and leaping up from the bed.

Angela's eyes widened. "You okay?"

Natalie nodded a little too fervently for her proclamation of okay-ness to be believable.

"Oh. You stone?" Angela said, head cocked to the side in curiosity.

"Uh….what does that mean?" the redhead said, embarrassment blushing hot in her chest at her pitiful lack of knowledge.

"Stone? It means that you don't like no one touchin' you and you're the one doin' all the touchin'. But I don't know if I could call you that, since you ain't too butch. You're like, in the middle, y'know?" Angela explained, twirling a lock of brown hair around her finger.

Natalie's eyes glazed over at the action, small and simple yet strangely kinda hot. She shook her head as if to clear her mind of those thoughts, those thoughts usually inspired by Drew Barrymore or Julia Roberts or Cindy Crawford. And on one occasion, Adrian. How fun.

"Uh-huh. I mean, no. I guess, maybe? But I ain't butch. That means guy-ish, right?"

Angela nodded, swinging her legs over to the side of the bed.

"Uh-huh. And femme means girlish, so I'm femme," the brunette said, leaning over to pick up her jeans from off the floor.

Angela quirked an eyebrow in Natalie's direction.

"Want me to tell you more?"

Natalie nodded, glassy eyed and open mouthed.

"D'you know what tops and bottoms are?"

Natalie nodded again, a burst of offense radiating through her chest.

"'Course I do, I ain't that uneducated about myself."

"Well, judgin' from last night, you're a top, miss," Angela drawled, pulling her sweatshirt over her head before closing the distance between herself and Natalie.

Natalie swallowed the spit accumulating in her mouth as Angela pulled her in by the belt loops. "What a' you?"

"I'm a vers, so, y'know. I could be your pillow princess, _orrrrrrrr_ I could-"

Natalie resisted the urge to flinch as she pulled away from Angela, nausea beginning to brew within her gut. "Uh, Ang, where's the bathroom?"

Angela looked surprised but not offended by Natalie's sudden reaction. "Uh, uh, just outside, and to your left," she stammered, eyes still wide and lips still parted.

The ginger mumbled her thanks before opening the door and slamming it shut behind her.

Within no less than five minutes, Natalie was curled up into a ball under the relentless spray of water, sobbing into her hand so Angela wouldn't hear.

"YO! NATALIE!"

The redhead flinched at the scream of her name, fingertips numb and heart pounding.

Robert ran after her, wildly waving his arms around. Natalie's heart dropped. She hadn't even thought of what would happen when she saw him again, hadn't even crossed her mind.

"Listen, uh, my folks, they're not mad at you or anything, they just want you back home," Robert stammered out, tugging on Natalie's sleeve to get her attention.

"Oh, bull. They've got to be pissed at me," the ginger sardonically retorted.

"Well, they're more worried than anything," Robert quickly explained, half-jogging, half-walking in order to keep up with Natalie.

Natalie was silent.

"I mean, you ran out at night and didn't come back, what'd you expect? Hey, where'd you even sleep last night?"

"At Angela's,"

Shit, the Balboas already hated her. What did it matter if she was a dyke?

Robert's eyes widened with understanding.

"So… you're…."

"A lesbian. The word is lesbian."

"That's cool. I mean, I think being gay is cool. Transsexuals are cool, too. Like, the- there's nothin' wrong with that kinda stuff. Really, and I'm not just sayin' that," Robert stammered out, wildly gesticulating with every world. Like father, like son, Natalie guessed.

"Yeah, well, tell your parents if you want. I don't give a fuck," Natalie snarled, ignoring the heaviness in her chest that indicated that yes, she did actually give a fuck.

"I'm not telling them anything, Natalie. It's none of my business," Robert went on, his sneaker clad feet hitting the concrete with a sharp smack as he tried to keep up with the ginger.

"'Sides, I think you and Angela would make a cute couple."

Despite herself, a smile tugged at the corner of Natalie's mouth.

If Robert was right about anything, it was that.

"Yeah, I think so too, Robert. I think so too."

"So, what do you think I should do?"

"Well, I mean, youse just did somethin' big, 'course it's gonna be awkward. And just because she ain't said nothin' to you yet don't mean she's ignorin' you, just means that she ain't had the time to talk to you yet."

Jewel and Angela sat on the bathroom floor, trading beauty tips, talking smack, leafing through magazines, and sharing bubble gum and lollipops.

In other words, it was a perfectly normal afternoon for them.

"So, just let her come to me?" Angela asked.

"Uh-huh. Don't think the worst, Ang, that ain't gonna help," Jewel murmured, briefly taking the sucker out of her mouth.

"I miss her, though. I mean, it's only been a couple of hours, and…."

"Oh, Angela. You're real head over heels, ain't you?" Jewel said teasingly, nudging the brunette in the side.

"How couldn't I be? You seen those eyes?" Angela retorted.

"She's cute, I'll give her that. But I ain't gay," Jewel deadpanned, popping her cherry bubble gum.

"Really? Oh, I woulda thought so. I mean, those full fledged make out sessions with your boyfriend really scream 'dyke', don't you agree?"

The blonde's upper lip curled into a sneer as she elbowed Angela in the side.

"And just between you an' me, Natalie got some issues if you know what I mean. She ain't crazy or nothin', but sometimes she'd come to school all bruised up, or she'd have trouble walkin', or whatever," Jewel murmured under her breath, hand cupped over the side of her mouth as if to muffle the gossip.

Angela felt a flair of protectiveness in her chest. Sure, Jewel liked to talk, but Natalie was off limits. _Her_ Natalie was off limits, and if the redhead wanted to unveil her superhero-esque tragic backstory, she was more than welcome to.

"Like, I ain't tryin' to be a gossip or nothing, just lettin' you know. Didn't want you to think you did somethin', she's probably just been through a lot," Jewel stammered out, hands raised and eyes wide as if Angela would ever actually hurt her.

"Yeah, well, it's none o' my damn business," Angela grumbled, getting up from the bathroom floor and shutting the door behind her.

"Robert, come on, I don't wanna go in," Natalie complained, planting her feet on the stained concrete underneath her sneakers.

"Why? It's not like he's gonna yell at you," Robert said incredulously, tugging a little harder at the redhead's sleeve.

But that wasn't the issue.

What was the issue, however, was that Robert was trying to get Natalie to go into Mighty Mick's Gym.

Now, normally, Natalie would have no problem with that. If her grandfather hadn't abandoned her for shiny cars and big chandeliers, she'd have walked in, no problem.

If her mother hadn't died on the bathroom floor of a heroin overdose, right in that very gym, Natalie would've been okay with her nostrils being violated by the stench of testosterone and stale sweat.

But her grandfather _had_ abandoned her, and her mother _had_ died on the bathroom floor of a heroin overdose.

So there was absolutely, positively, no fuckin' way she was going in.

"Okay, okay, I get it. But c'mon, you gotta go in."

Evidently, no, Robert did not get it.

"Please? I promise, my dad's a nice guy. He's not gonna get mad at you for this, just talk to you," Robert continued, knitting his brow as he pleaded with the reluctant ginger.

Yes, Natalie was afraid to face Rocky. Who wouldn't be? Sure, it had been a while since he last boxed, and sure, he must have mellowed out, but who in their right mind would want to get a talking-to from the two time boxing champion of the world?

"Come on, Natalie, you're practically a god to him. Now let's go," Robert said again insistently, taking advantage of Natalie's daze like state and wrenching her forward by the arm.

"Robert, no-"

 **JANUARY 1981**

 _Jennifer half walked, half stumbled through the doors of Mighty Mick's Gym, her fingers laced with Natalie's._

 _A ring of crusted up vomit formed a circle around Jennifer's colorless lips. The lanky ginger let out a pathetic groan as she collapsed, her body hitting the floor with a sharp, unforgiving smack._

 _Mickey quickly turned around at the sudden noise, his eyes widening to the size of plates as he rushed over to the nearly unconscious ginger._

 _Rocky turned around as well, confusion apparent on his features. "Mick?" he questioned, momentarily pausing his assault on the speed bag._

 _Mickey wordlessly shook his head, roughly jostling Jennifer's shoulder. "Jen? Jen?" the elderly man said insistently, panic beginning to creep into his gravelly voice._

 _Rocky stood there in silence. He was, for the first time in his life, completely and utterly lost for words._

 _Jennifer slowly looked up, causing a strange mixture of rage and relief to pulsate through Mickey's veins. "What?" the ginger said weakly, her hand no longer laced with her daughter's._

 _Natalie stood off to the side, blue eyes wide with confusion. She looked up at Rocky, cocking her head to the side._

 _"You-" Mickey looked behind him, making sure no one was listening other than Rocky._

 _"You relapsed?" the white-haired man angrily hissed, his dirty nails digging to Jennifer's arm. Track marks and bruises dotted the flesh that Mickey tightly held._

 _Jennifer feebly nodded as a response. Her eyelids grew heavy as they began to close. The ginger slumped forward, hitting her freckled chin on her father's knee._

 _Mickey's calloused hand shot forward. He roughly grabbed the mass of ginger curls on Jennifer's head and pulled hard. He yanked the redhead's face towards his and spoke in a low, infuriated whisper._

 _"What the hell's the matter with you? You love some drug more than your own fuckin' daughter?" Mickey seethed, fury laced through every word._

 _Jennifer's unfocused, glazed over blue eyes welled up with hot tears. "No," the redhead croaked out._

 _"Then what the hell are you doing all this for, you- you-"_

 **JANUARY 1992**

"Yo, Dad!" Robert shouted, forcing Rocky to look up from sweeping the floors. Rocky let the broom clatter to the floor when his eyes met with Natalie's, something between apprehension and shock crossing his features. The man quickly forced a smile onto his face, hurrying over to the duo.

 _Don't look at the bathroom. Don't look at the bathroom. Don't look at the bathroom._

 _Rocky was there when Mama died, right? Yeah, he was right there, and he showed you how to hit the bag to distract you from-_

 _But you looked anyway, you went into the bathroom and you saw-_

 _And she saw Mister Spider that day, didn't she? And he took her into a room, and they came back out, and he gave her the magic dust-_

"Hey, yo, Natalie, how you doin'?" Rocky slung an arm over the ginger's shoulder, steering her off into a corner.

"Robert, me and Natalie, we gotta talk private for a second," Rocky explained when his son tried to follow the duo. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and stood in front of the redhead, looking more fatherly than intimidating.

But that didn't make a difference to Natalie. He was a man, and they were all the same to her.

Monsters.

"You know, you gave us a real scare last night, miss," Rocky said gently, lifting up his fedora to rake a hand through his hair.

"Uh-huh," Natalie said blankly, staring off into space. She had to get outta here, she couldn't be here anymore-

 **JANUARY 1981**

 _Jennifer slumped down underneath the showerhead, letting the freezing cold water douse every inch of her body. Her head rested against the tile, a dull, hard surface that made her skull ache._

 _Jesus. How was she gonna get out of her mess this time?_

 _Didn't seem like she could._

 _Evelyn was gonna be pissed at her for this. Even more pissed than Mick, if that was possible._

 _The redhead frowned as her vision began to blur at the edges, dots of color swimming in front of her eyes. She'd never felt like this before, what was going on-_

 _Fresh vomit spewed past Jennifer's lips, dribbling down her chin and chest and staining the soaked through material of her shirt._

 _Oh, it was getting so hard to breathe. Felt like something heavy pressing down on her chest, crushing her sternum and ribs._

 _Was she dying? Was this what dying felt like? Like blackness taking over every inch of her?_

 _The redhead felt a jolt of panic in her chest. No, no, she couldn't die, Natalie was right outside, and so was Mick, and so was Rocky, and fuck, she had so so much to live for-_

 _Jennifer closed her eyes and let the world fade away into nothingness. Death was inevitable after all, what better place to do it in the bathroom of her father's gym?_

 **JANUARY 1992**

"And it ain't because you a girl. If Robert ran off in the middle of the night, oh, boy, I, I wouldn't be too happy about that, neither. Believe me."

Natalie's fingertips went numb. The only sound she could hear was the _whir-clunk_ of her heart and her blood pounding through her veins.

"Yo? Hello? Natalie? Oh, shit-"

Natalie's chest rose and fell with every strangled, throaty breath. She was hyperventilating now, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as her hands shook uncontrollably.

Fuck, this was embarrassing, this was _mortifying,_ the fact that she was breaking down here, of all places, and in front of Rocky, of all people.

 _"Get- me- out- of- here- please-"_

"Okay, okay, I hear you- yo, Paulie! Cover for me, I'm takin' her outside," Rocky shouted over his shoulder, pushing open the door to the gym and practically shoving Natalie out.

There was nothing she could do about it, of course. Couldn't magically snap out of it, couldn't erase everything she'd been carrying around for the past twelve years, ever since Jennifer had died.

But God, she wished she could.

Her mother had chosen some drug over her own daughter, and now Natalie was stuck grieving for someone she barely knew.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair at all.

"Yo, yo, I'll walk you home, it's okay," Rocky said in an attempt to be soothing, placing a warm, calloused hand on Natalie's shoulder. The redhead instinctively jerked away like she'd touched a hot stove, muttering 'no' under her breath.

"Okay, okay, no touchin', I got it. I'll just...walk you home, okay? Don't worry about nothin'," Rocky said before darting back inside Natalie's personal hellhole, probably to get his jacket Ir whoop Robert's ass old-school Eye-talian style.

Natalie couldn't believe, really, that she had lost it like that. All snot nosed and terrified, tears running down her cheeks. In front of the Italian Stallion, in _public._

Dammit. How could she possibly save face this time?

Rocky came out of the gym a couple moments later, a leather jacket stretched out over his broad shoulders. If he was annoyed, or angry, there was no indication of it on his face. Just concern, and something warm and caring that Natalie couldn't recognize.

"You ready?" he asked, already starting to walk ahead.

Natalie briskly nodded, jamming her still shaking hands into her coat pockets. She needed to say something, didn't she? Yes, of course she did, needed to explain why she'd freaked out so bad.

But she had a feeling Rocky already knew.

After all, one does not forget one's trainer's daughter dying in the gym owned by one's aforementioned trainer.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Balboa," Natalie stammered out, uncomfortable with the silence between them. Rocky shook his head, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow.

"Ain't no reason to be sorry," he said, his tone bordering on dismissive.

"Yeah, but, I ran out on you and everyone in the middle of the night, so I'm sorry for that," the redhead insisted, hands still trembling in her pockets.

Truth be told, Natalie wasn't all that sorry. More afraid of being kicked out, of not having anywhere else to go. Adrian had screwed with her, why not screw back? Why not let her go without sleep for a night, scare the hell out of her?

That's what she got for talkin' smack about Natalie's mother.

"Alright, miss, we're here now. Don't worry about nothin' just, just chill, y'know?" Rocky says, fitting his key into the lock and swinging the door open.

Natalie nodded. Damn, was she lucky it was a Friday. Homework could wait for two whole days, left ignored in the bottom of her backpack.

"I'm gon' have to talk to Robert, though. I don't know what he was thinkin', bringin' you over there," Rocky muttered, running his hand over his face incredulously.

Natalie's heart throbbed within her chest at the mention of Robert. Shit, had she gotten the poor bastard in trouble? Oh, man-

"No, no, no, he didn't do nothin' wrong. He didn't know," the redhead quickly explained, her hands already starting to shake again at the thought of Robert being hurt because of her. She couldn't stomach the thought of being the one to earn him a beating.

Rocky's eyes widened with surprise.

"I mean, I didn't tell him…about….that, so, y'know, he didn't do nothin' wrong," Natalie repeated, the words thick and heavy and sour on her tongue. Her heart was already beginning to race at the thought of Rocky slapping his son around, screams and yells and bruises-

"Oh. That's okay. I won't say nothin' to him, then," Rocky drawled, pointing inside the house. "Go ahead, I'll be back later."

Natalie nodded, stepping past the threshold of the door. With one last wink and wave, Rocky closed the door shut and went on his merry way.

"Hey, yo, how you doin'?"

The redhead flinched at the sudden voice, eyes already wide with surprise.

Paulie sat in front of the TV, clutching a whiskey bottle in his hand and a Playboy magazine in the other. Natalie shuddered, muttering a 'hi' before making her way for the stairs down to the basement.

"No, no, no, hol' on a minute. Adrian wants to talk to you, miss," Paulie said, pointing towards the couch. "So siddown."

Uncomfortable, stinging warmth spread throughout Natalie's chest and down to her fingertips. She couldn't tell if it was fear or anger, but the exact details of her emotions were the last thing on her mind.

"Okay," the ginger muttered, plopping down on the couch and wrapping her arms around her middle, a feeble attempt to protect herself from the verbal lashing she was bound to receive from Adrian. _What the hell were you thinking, where the hell were you, yada, yada, yada…_

Nothing Natalie wasn't used to by now, but that didn't ease the burning ache of fear in her stomach.

"Natalie, sweetheart?" Adrian said softly, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes looked dull with exhaustion and she seemed at least a decade older than she really was, worn down by the rough and tumble life of the ghetto.

The brunette jerked her head backwards. "Let's go upstairs."

Natalie nodded, pressing sweaty, shaking palms against her jeans. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as she stood up and began to walk.

 _It's gonna be fine,_ the voice inside her head said, so smooth and self-assured.

 _No,_ Natalie retorted, curling her nails into her palms. _It's not gonna be fine._ Nothing was ever fine for her, so why would this be any different?

"You know, Natalie, you caused us a lot of trouble last night."

Adrian's tone was sharp and biting, nothing like it usually was. She was always so sweet, so gentle and soft and unassuming.

But that was fine. Natalie could handle bite and sharpness.

"I stayed up until almost four, drivin' myself up the wall because I was so worried about you," the brunette admonished, wagging her finger at the teenager.

"Yes, yes, it was wrong of me to say that about your mother. But you, you can't just run out on us like that, Natalie."

Adrian's words were remarkably similar to her husband's. Shit, they must have planned out a script or something…

"I, I know, Mrs. Balboa. It ain't gonna happen again. Scout's honor," Natalie said, holding up two fingers in what she hoped was the infamous Girl Scouts gesture.

Adrian let out a deep, tremulous sigh, burying her face in her hands and sitting down on the bed. "Please don't let it, Natalie. I can't worry about you like that again. _We_ can't worry about you like that again."

Goddamnit. Adrian sure was tugging at all the right heartstrings, intentional or not. Shaky breathing? Check. Tremulous hands? Check. High-pitched, teary voice? Checkity-check-checkballs.

"You alright?" Natalie asked, placing a tentative hand on the brunette's shoulder. She was no Phil Donahue, of course, but it was a start.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, yeah," Adrian said too hurriedly to be true, wiping at her eyes with the palms of her hands. She forced a smile to uplift the corners of her mouth, letting out another uneven breath.

"Just, uh, thinking about your grandpa," the brunette murmured, another humorless laugh falling from her lips.

The mere mention of Mickey made Natalie's stomach twist. He was the one that had caused all this in the first place, of course.

He'd gotten some middle aged whore pregnant, and therefore created a young whore who got pregnant by some dago, who made the aforementioned young whore a drug addict and even more of a whore, who birthed a dyke bitch that was bound to live a life of horrific suffering.

This was all his fault.

"Is it okay if I go back downstairs?" Natalie asked, ignoring the tears beginning to bloom beneath her lids. God help her to not cry in front of Adrian.

"That's okay," Adrian replied, either sensing that Natalie was upset or just not wanting to see her dumb face anymore. Either one was fine with the redhead.

Natalie forced a smile of her own and scurried downstairs before Adrian could get another word out.

Goddamn, she was hungry. That wasn't surprising, of course. She hadn't eaten jack shit all day except for the slop they served at school, so why not treat herself to some lasagna leftovers?

Natalie rummaged through the refrigerator, opting for a sandwich instead. She took out the cheese and tossed it on the counter in front of her, and-

Natalie's heart stopped.

There was _someone there._

The figure's back was turned to her, but they didn't need to face Natalie for the redhead to know who it was.

No. No, that was impossible. It was impossible for _that person_ to be standing _right there-_

"Mama?"

Natalie silently cursed herself, biting her tongue and squeezing her eyes shut. God, she was being so fucking childish, she wasn't some three year old with half a brain. She was an adult, two years away from turning eighteen and running so far from this place that Flo-Jo couldn't hold a damn candle to her.

Her mother was dead. Dead, gone. There was no way in hell that she'd somehow resurrected and was now standing in the Balboa's kitchen.

Flo-Jo was stupid, her aerobic jumpsuits were stupid, Natalie was stupid, this whole damn shindig was stupid, and all she had to do was blink and her mother would be gone. She'd barely gotten any sleep the past few days, she had to have been hallucinating….

Natalie blinked.

And Jennifer was still there, holding a cigarette between two fingers and stashing a sucker in the side of her mouth. She was _there,_ bell bottoms hiked all the way up to her neck (well, almost) and a t-shirt stretched over her bony chest.

When Natalie squinted, it read: _Sex is like snow. You never know how many inches you're gonna get or how long it will last!_

Natalie winced.

She looked exactly the same. Not a hair or a freckle out of place. Forever twenty, never going to get older. Frozen stuck.

"No." Natalie vehemently shook her head. "No. No, you're not supposed to be here, you're dead."

"Really, that's the way you greet me? Didn't your mother teach you manners?" Jennifer retorted, taking another slow puff of her cigarette.

Natalie stared in silence, waiting for the older redhead to realize the irony.

Jennifer threw her head back and cackled, her tongue stained blood red from the lollipop.

"Oh, that's right! I didn't teach you jack squat," the older redhead said after a moment, feigning realization with another flamboyant cackle.

"You're dead," Natalie spat, trying to convince herself more than anything. This was some sick joke, it had to be. The Balboas had probably just gotten pissed at her and hired some doppelganger to fuck with her head.

"Well, I know that. You're a real stickler for the obvious, ain't ya, missy?" Jennifer reached out, trying to put a hand on Natalie's shoulder.

Natalie jerked away like she had been burned. "Don't touch me."

Jennifer furrowed her brow. "I'm your mother, baby girl. I can touch you if I want."

"No, you can't," Natalie snarled, feeling that rage begin to rise in her chest. _Just like Mick,_ she thought. _Too much like him._

"Why not?" Jennifer asked, taking another puff from her cigarette. She crossed her ankles, leaning against the wall and looking she had all the time in the world.

"Because…. because if you touch me you'll go away," Natalie whispered, the words feeling bitter and wrong on her tongue.

Jennifer quirked an eyebrow expectantly.

Tears brimmed at the corners of Natalie's eyes for the umpteenth time that day.

"And I don't want that to happen."

She was telling the truth, of course. She was still that three year old in some ways, innocent and precocious and unable to understand that her mother was gone forever.

Natalie could hate Jennifer all she wanted, and she could lie to herself until the cows came home, but that wouldn't change the undeniable fact that she still loved her.

Even if she didn't want to.

"Well, now, I don't think I will. But is there anythin' else you wanna ask me or should I just take a long walk off a short pier?" Jennifer drawled, emitting another cloud of gray smoke.

"Why'd you do it?" Natalie said, too quick to stop herself.

"You mean kill myself?" Jennifer scoffed, taking the sucker out of her mouth and rolling the stick between her fingers.

"Is that what Bubbe told you? That I did it on purpose? That's bullshit. My dealer gave me a little more H than normal, and I did it all in one go. That's the way it went. Big fuckin' whoop."

"Is he my dad?" Natalie asked, her heart beating so quickly within her chest that she could barely feel it at all.

"What?"

"Is the dealer my dad?"

"Nah. Your daddy's the one that got me into the shit in the first place, but he wasn't the dealer," Jennifer said disinterestedly, sticking the lollipop back in her mouth.

"What's my- what's my father's name?"

"No good rat bastard, that's his name. It's French," Jennifer quipped, shaking her head ruefully. Hell hath no fury like a South Philly Jew scorned, as they say.

The younger redhead's jaw clenched.

"Is it Rocky?" Natalie said incredulously.

"Hell fuckin' no. I got no problem sleeping with Puerto Ricans, got no problem sleeping with even the fuckin' Irish, but I wasn't gonna do another Italian after your daddy up and left. His mom got a job in Brooklyn, my ass."

Natalie stood in silence.

"'Sides, have you seen him look at Adrian? He's busted-up head over heels for her, poor broad."

If Jennifer was right about anything, it was that. Rocky loved that poor lady, no doubt about it.

"Y'know, I asked him for my dad's name. He said he was sworn to secrecy by you and Zayde, so thanks for that," Natalie said, wiping a hand over her face.

"Uh-huh. His name ain't ever gonna be spoken here, that's for certain. The fact that me and Zayde are both dead ain't gonna change that," Jennifer deadpanned, pushing her glasses back up her nose. Awful vision was something else Natalie had inherited from her, as if the list wasn't long enough.

"He's still scared shitless of Mick, you know," Natalie said with a chuckle. Jennifer smiled too, real and genuine and toothy just like she used to.

Natalie vehemently shook her head. Bitch didn't deserve her sympathy.

"Anyway, can I ask you another thing?"

"Shoot," Jennifer deadpanned.

"Did you see all that shit happening to me?"

Jennifer's face grew somber and cold.

"Yeah."

"Then why didn't you stop it?" There was a lump forming in Natalie's throat now, and she couldn't stop the tears from staining her cheeks.

"What the fuck did you expect me to do, Natalie? Pop out from the afterlife and go all Bruce Lee on a motherfucker?" Jennifer said incredulously, her eyes widening with every word she spoke.

"Yeah, actually I did. Why'd you let that happen to me?"

Jennifer stayed silent.

"I ain't got magical powers. Believe me. I wish I did. Matter o' fact, I had this whole conversation with Mr. Spider about not wanting you to end up like Little Marie, and…" Jennifer trailed off, evidently too ashamed to say another word. Good.

"She's like a mother to me," Natalie boasted, chin tilted up to hide the fresh set of tears blooming within her eyes. It was a lie, but she wanted to hurt Jennifer, make her feel that same ache in her chest that Natalie had felt for the past twelve years.

Jennifer's jaw clenched for the briefest of moments, so quickly that Natalie could've sworn it was her imagination.

Well, this entire fuckin' thing was her imagination. Either that or Paulie had spiked the tap water with somethin' fierce.

"Did you ever hear me callin' out for you? When I had a nightmare, and I used to hug my stupid little dolly and beg for you?"

More silence.

"You know, all I ever wanted was you. I just wanted to sit on your lap and watch M.A.S.H with you and get read bedtime stories. But you, Jennifer? All you wanted was to get high," Natalie spat, the ball of rage that had been in her chest for the past twelve years beginning to unloosen with every word.

"Why weren't I enough for you?" the younger ginger demanded, slamming her hand against the counter to drive her point home. She was beyond the point of stopping now, and as far as she was concerned, the only thing that mattered now was her mother knowing _exactly_ how the fuck she felt.

"It ain't your fault. You gotta know that," Jennifer whispered, her hands beginning to shake. Natalie felt a pang of something in her chest, but she brushed it aside. She could analyze it later.

"No, no I don't fuckin' know that. How could I know that?"

"I...I dunno," Jennifer sheepishly admitted, ash falling from her cigarette and onto the wooden floor.

"Y-you know, I thought about this shit all my life. What I'd do if you came back one day, everything I'd tell you and all the stuff I'd ask you." Natalie rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her palms, silently praying to whatever higher power above that she wouldn't cry.

"But now that you're here, I don't got nothin' to say to you except for fuck you. Fuck you all the to hell," the teenager snarled, her throat burning from the force of her words.

This was nothing like she imagined seeing her mother again would be like. This was all _wrong._

Natalie squeezed her eyes shut and yelled through gritted teeth- _"Fuck you, Jennifer!"_

When she opened her eyes again, Jennifer was nowhere to be found, leaving only the burn in Natalie's chest and a smell of smoke in the air.

"Hey! Hey, yo, Natalie?"

Paulie stood in the kitchen, waving around a Playboy magazine. "You been starin' off in the distance for a while. You done a little acid or somethin'?"

Natalie shook her head. "Nah, I'm cool," she murmured blankly, hurrying down to the basement and smothering her sobs in her pillow.


	8. Chapter 8

**NOVEMBER 1975**

 _"Hey. What's your name?"_

 _Jennifer arched an eyebrow. "You talkin' to me, tough guy?"_

 _"Uh-huh. You gonna tell me your name or what?"_

 _This punk had slid up to Jennifer during lunch, lookin' like he walked straight off the set of The Lords of Flatbush. He had been staring at her all day, and Jennifer assumed it had been because of her oh-so sexy maxi skirt and frumpy sweater. She was a real Farrah Fawcett._

 _"Okay, fine. Jennifer Goldmill," the redhead drawled, sticking her hand out for the tough guy lookin' bastard to shake._

 _He smiled, real and genuine and toothy. "Jimmy Anello. The pleasure is all mine," he said, patting the side of Jennifer's hand before letting go._

 _Jimmy arched an eyebrow. "You ever go by Jenny?"_

 _"Nunya. What are you getting at, our names sound similar, so we should be together forever?"_

 _Jimmy clicked his tongue. "Well, yeah. Kinda."_

 _The guy got charisma, Jennifer had to give him that if nothin' else. He was cute too, with dimples and a nice jawline._

 _The redhead's upper lip curled into a smirk. "Okay. I guess I'll see you around then, Jimmy Anello."_

 _"You too, Jenny Goldmill."_

 _"It's Jennif-"_

 _But the tough guy bastard, as Jennifer so lovingly nicknamed him, was long fuckin' gone._

 **JANUARY 1992**

"So, so, so, what I don't _und-er-stand_ is how the chicken could possibly come before the egg. You need the egg to have the friggin' chicken!"

"That's what I'm tryna tell you! You need the chicken to have the egg!"

"But- but how'd it be that the chicken came before the egg? Eggs come from chickens!"

"Well, well, the chicken had to have the egg in the first place! I'm tellin' you, Paulie, the chicken came first, it, it, mutated or somethin'!"

"Rocko, you're gettin' mentally irregular, please, please, enough," Paulie said, taking another slow puff of his cigarette. Rocky vehemently shook his head, slamming his hand against the table.

"No, no, you're gettin' mentally irregular if you think the egg came before the chicken. You need the damn chicken to have the egg," the former boxer shouted, grabbing Paulie by the front of his shirt and shaking him hard enough for the both of them to have an aneurysm.

"Hey, hey, hey! Let's ask Junior over there." Paulie jerked his head over to Robert, who was desperately trying to ignore the pointless argument between his father and uncle.

"What do you think came first, baby?" Rocky murmured, strolling over to his son and planting a kiss on the top of his head.

"Yo, I know what came first!" Paulie shouted out of the blue. He raised his whiskey bottle in a gesture of triumph, a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

"What did?" the taller of the two men deadpanned.

"Robert to last night's episode o' Baywatch." Paulie drunkenly cackled at his own joke, throwing his head back and shouting his laughter to the ceiling.

"Hey, yo, Paulie, enough," Rocky complained, giving his brother-in-law a good smack on the head with a rolled up newspaper.

"I'm goin' upstairs, away from all this grossness," Robert mumbled in reply, bounding up the stairs with a quickness that rivaled Jesse Owens.

"Hey, Robert. What's crackin'?" Natalie deadpanned, tossing a hand of microwave popcorn in her mouth.

"Did you hear all that?" Robert said as way of greeting, plopping down on the couch next to Natalie.

"You mean, which came first, the chicken or the egg? And that jab about you comin' to Baywatch? No, I didn't hear anything. Call me Helen Keller."

Robert sighed, rubbing his hands over his face in mortification. Natalie snickered, elbowing him in the side.

"Come on, man, ain't no big deal," the ginger said, her eyes suddenly widening with fear.

"You didn't….actually….did you?" Natalie murmured, casting a glance over her shoulder to ensure that Adrian hadn't materialized outta nowhere like some goddamn ghost.

"No," Robert said with a scowl.

"Okay, good. 'Cause I sleep down there," the redhead said, elbowing Robert in the side once again. It was a wonder his ribs hadn't cracked during his time living with Natalie.

Robert chewed on his bottom lip, eyes shifting across the room. "Uh...speaking of….that kinda stuff…."

Natalie quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah?" she said expectantly, bracing herself for a question so stupid that it broke quite a few world records.

"Have you ever….done it?"

The ginger blinked.

The ginger blinked again.

And then, the ginger laughed.

"Really? Shit, I thought you were gonna therapize me, man," Natalie said with a guffaw, landing a playful punch on the teenager's shoulder.

"Is this about Jewel?" she asked in a hushed tone, furrowing her brow and clasping her hands together.

Robert let out a tremulous breath. "Uh...yeah," he muttered quietly. A sad sort of smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"We never done it before, and I think we might soon, and I just wanna know what to do, y'know?"

"Yeah, yeah. I get that," Natalie murmured, feeling unease beginning to curl within her stomach. God help her to not lose her shit right at this very moment.

"Uh...what's it like? To...have sex?"

Natalie bit back the urge to ask if he meant for free or for money and shrugged.

"It's…nice, I guess," she murmured in response. _At least it was supposed to be._

Natalie still hadn't spoken to Angela since, well, _that_. The brunette had often tried to catch her eye, smiling at her in the halls, waving her over during lunch.

It never worked. Natalie didn't want it to.

She couldn't shake the feeling that she had done something terribly, horribly wrong. And she hadn't, of course- she knew that much.

But those fucking animals that had stolen her innocence didn't think they had done anything wrong either.

Natalie stood up, walked into the bathroom, and promptly threw up.

 **NOVEMBER 1975**

 _"Hey, Jenny baby, how you doin'?"_

 _"Hey, man," the redhead muttered, pushing open the door to the gym and shutting it behind her. There was always a congregation of wise-guys around the gym, just waiting to make a snide comment or a pass._

 _Oh, well. Jenny had bigger things to reflect on._

 _Like the fact that she'd just walked in on a screaming match between her father and the kinda-hot neighborhood knucklehead Rocky Balboa._

 _"It's a waste of life!" Mickey bellowed, and with that, Rocky turned around on his heel and headed straight for the door._

 _"Yo, move, Jenny," Rocky mumbled, shoving the redhead to the side._

 _"I ain't movin' nowhere. Fuck you," Jennifer spat in response. Scumbag couldn't even ask politely._

 _Rocky's eyes widened in surprise. "What'd you say?"_

 _"You heard me. Now come on, let's go outside and talk this out. Man to man," Jennifer barked, jabbing her thumb towards the door._

 _Apparently, Rocky knew better than to question her usage of the phrase 'man to man', because he made a beeline for the door right after her._

 _"Now I don't know what all went down in there, but I know whatever Mickey said to you was right," the redhead said, crossing her arms and tapping a boot-clad foot against the filthy concrete._

 _"No, it wasn't. I told him I was breakin' fingers for a living, because I ain't got no other choice, and you know what he says to me? That it's a friggin' waste of life!" Rocky shouted defensively, slamming his hand against the side of the brick building. He cursed under his breath and held his hand, rubbing small circles over the skin with his thumb._

 _"Oh, yeah. Then he's definitely right," Jennifer deadpanned._

 _"No, he ain't," Rocky murmured, glancing up from nursing his hand to give the redhead a seething glare._

 _"Yes he is. And you know that, deep down inside even if you don't like it. You're better than this, Rock. You don't gotta do this no more," Jennifer pleaded, reaching out a hand to touch the Italian on the shoulder. The leather felt warm and oddly…nice beneath her hand, and she jerked away before she could go any further._

 _"You wanna be breakin' fingers all your life or you actually wanna do some good?" she snarled, trying to compensate for that brief, unintentional moment of tenderness._

 _"I wanna do good," Rocky said after a pause, pulling his lower lip between his teeth._

 _"Then go out there and do good. But take your medicine first," Jennifer said matter of factly, leaning against the building and wincing as the brick scraped her skin through her jacket._

 _Cheap piece of shit._

 _Rocky furrowed his brow in confusion. "What medicine?"_

 _The redhead rolled her eyes. Clearly, his last two brain cells were preoccupied with other things. "It's a metaphor, Einstein."_

 _"Oh," Rocky murmured, his mouth curling into a sheepish smile._

 _And before Jenny could stop herself, she leaned forward and kissed him._

 _She had never kissed anyone before._

 _Never been kissed, either. The opportunity had presented itself before, of course._

 _She went to a school dance with Daniel Jones when she was twelve, and he ogled her all night until he went cross eyed._

 _But Jenny didn't kiss him._

 _And for some reason, she decided kissing some thirty-year old dago loser was a whole lot better._

 _Rocky shoved her away the second her lips met his, the gesture too harsh to be gentle but not enough to be angry._

 _"Yo, uh…" he stammered out, wringing his hands together as he backed away from the redhead._

 _"This ain't never happened, okay?" Rocky said quietly, the crease between his eyebrows growing more prominent as he widened his eyes._

 _Jennifer felt sick._

 _"I….okay," she whispered, bile burning in the back of her throat._

 _"For real. Never happened," Rocky repeated, grabbing her arm and squeezing._

 _"Okay. Got it."_

 _"Don't do that again."_

 _"I won't."_

 _"Okay. Bye."_

 _"Bye."_

 _Jennifer smacked herself against the forehead hard enough to make her ears ring._

 _"Idiot," she murmured._

 **JANUARY 1992**

"Yo, Natalie!"

"Shit," the redhead muttered, shoving her hands deeper in her pockets as if that would make her disappear.

 _Angela._

"Natalie? Natalie!"

Natalie ducked into the nearest bathroom. Angela had the good sense not to follow her in, right?

Apparently not.

The brunette closed the bathroom door with a deafening click.

"Why won't you talk to me?" she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her voice was a low, angry whisper that made Natalie's stomach twist, and there was a look in her eyes the ginger hadn't seen before.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about," Natalie deadpanned, her heart throbbing within her chest with every word of the lie. Her fingertips were numb, her hands shook by her sides, and there was a telltale tightening in her chest- she was going to _fucking lose it._

Angela probed the inside of her cheek with her tongue, jutting her hip out and leaning against the wall. "That's crap, Natalie, and you know it. If I did somethin' to you, just tell me," she hissed.

"No, no, you didn't do nothin'," Natalie said. It wasn't a lie, after all. _She_ had, not Angela. And the only way to keep from hurting Angela was to stay away from her.

"Then why you avoidin' me for?"

Natalie chewed on her lower lip, burning tears threatening to spill past her eyelids and roll down her cheeks.

God, she felt sick. She was just like all of _them_.

"I- I did something bad to you," she whispered, sounding five instead of fifteen. Angela inched closer, brow knit with worry as she outstretched her hands for the ginger.

"No, baby, you didn't. You didn't do nothin', okay?" she whispered, the nickname (pet name?) sounding strange and off-putting yet familiar all at the same time.

And to think they weren't even girlfriends yet, huh?

"Yes, I did. Yes I did, and I'm so so so sorry," Natalie murmured, digging her fingernails into her palms until it hurt. She was teetering on the edge of a panic attack, the painful fluttering in her chest growing all too prominent by the minute.

Angela froze, realization widening her eyes and furrowing her brow.

"Did somethin' happen to you, Natalie? Did someone do somethin' to you?" she said, reaching up to her neck and fiddling with the cross tucked underneath her sweater. She looked pale, nearly ghostly white as she took a slow step forward.

"Natalie, did someone _rape_ you?"

 **DECEMBER 25TH, 1990**

 _She tries to shut it out._

 _It doesn't work._

 _She tried to tell him no, screamed it even. She told him she was done for the day, she wasn't workin' no more._

 _He didn't listen._

 _And she shoved her down to the alley ground and had his way with her._

 _She stares into space, wishing she was anywhere but here._

 _Wishing she was dead._

 **JANUARY 1992**

"I can't tell you," Natalie sobbed, clamping a trembling hand over her mouth. "I can't tell you, I can't tell you, I can't tell you."

"Okay, okay, c'mere-"

"I can't tell you, I can't tell you, I'm so so so sorry, I can't tell you," Natalie whispered, over and over and over again until she couldn't breathe anymore.

Humiliation burned low in her gut when Angela hugged her close, muttering soft, soothing words and rubbing circles on the redhead's back. How dare she treat her like this, how dare she be all sweet and kind like Natalie _deserved_ it-

"I got you, baby. It's okay," Angela murmured, burying her face in the crook of Natalie's neck.

Natalie sobbed.

 _Damn,_ Angela was good at lying.

 **NOVEMBER 1975**

 _"Hey, Jenny," Jimmy said low under his breath, taking a seat across from the redhead. There was a mischievous light in his eye, and a surly sort of grin tugging at the corner of his mouth._

 _"What d'ya want?" the ginger deadpanned, ignoring the warm fluttering feeling in her stomach._

 _Jimmy looked around to see if anyone was looking, then pulled a tiny bag full of white powder out of the pocket of his leather jacket._

 _His grin widened. "You in need of a good time?"_


End file.
